


Close to me

by wakanda



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Child Abuse, Good Friend John B. Routledge, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, JJ (Outer Banks) Deserves Better, JJ (Outer Banks) Needs a Hug, M/M, Physical Abuse, Pre-Season/Series 01, Protect JJ, Protective John B. Routledge, i guess?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:07:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24328525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakanda/pseuds/wakanda
Summary: John B gets to work cleaning up the blood on JJ’s face and disinfecting the cuts. Distantly, his brain tells him that JJ probably has bruises all over his body, but John B can’t take this all at once, so he focuses on JJ’s face for now. And fuck, up close, JJ’s eyes are so, so blue. Even battered and bruised, he’s fucking beautiful. No, John B thinks, and shoves those feelings, whatever they are, into the same dark corner he’s been putting them in for months. It’s not like that, it’ll never be like that.Or, snippets of John B's life as he deals with his feelings for JJ.Pre-season 1.
Relationships: JJ & John B. Routledge, JJ & Kiara & Pope & John B. Routledge, JJ & Pope (Outer Banks), JJ/John B. Routledge, Kiara & John B. Routledge, Pope & John B. Routledge
Comments: 95
Kudos: 420





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Ellie Goulding's song. Read the lyrics and you'll get it.
> 
> Not proofread, so sorry for any mistakes!
> 
> Trigger warnings for: domestic abuse, violence, blood and bruising.

JJ’s attendance at school is spotty, at best. John B never says anything about it because, well, his isn’t much better. The thing is, whereas John B will skip a day or two, JJ tends to be absent for a whole week. JJ is an all or nothing kind of guy, even when it comes to skipping school. John B wouldn’t mind too much, except JJ always pulls a full Houdini, skipping out on hanging with his friends, too.

John B knows what’s going on. It’s a tale as old as time, really. Luke scores a big job with a tight deadline and makes JJ help him. The upside? JJ gets a cut, so they can do a kegger on the beach once the job is done.

John B usually gets a call or a text from JJ with a heads up, but being the idiot he is, JJ dropped his phone in the marsh last week and hasn’t found the time to steal himself a new one. So without warning, John B has found himself one best friend lighter and very bored. Pope’s in a few of his classes, but he actually pays attention so John B can’t joke around with him.

It’s been three days. John B’s not much of a sap, but he _misses_ JJ. He loves Kie and Pope, but they both have families to go home to. JJ does too, technically, but his dad doesn’t care much where he sleeps so JJ spends about half his nights on John B’s pull-out couch. He started sleeping at the Chateau a lot more two months ago, after John B’s dad went missing. They don’t talk about it, but John B likes the company. He’s bad at being alone. JJ knows.

So now, with complete radio silence from JJ, John B might be going a little crazy. It’s fine, really. The three of them sit on John B’s porch and Kie holds passionate speeches about the environment and saving the turtles, or the pandas, or the dolphins. John B’s pretty sure she’s planning a raid on SeaWorld. Regardless, when she’s tired herself out, she curls up against John B on the porch swing. It’s nice. She’s soft, warm. Pope isn’t one for affection, so he’ll share facts about dead bodies no one asked for. It’s weird, but fun. But then they go home for dinner, and it’s just John B in a house full of things that remind him of his father.

JJ gets kind of weird about any of them showing up to his house unannounced, and usually John B respects that because JJ really doesn’t have many boundaries, so this one must be important to him. But he’s looking at the clock at the front of the classroom, ticking away the last two minutes until this bore fest is over, and he knows Pope has to go help out his dad after school, and Kie’s got some Kook event her parents are making her go to. So when the bell rings, John B thinks, _Fuck it_ , half-jogs to his car and starts driving in the direction of JJ’s place.

When John B pulls up, the house seems… eerily quiet. He was expecting to hear some general noise from the backyard, but there seems to be no one outside, and the blinds are drawn. John B’s first thought is _supply run_ , but Luke’s van is in the driveway. They must be inside.

John B knocks on the front door. Luke’s not… a pleasant man, so John B assumes he wouldn’t be too happy if he just barged in. For a few seconds, nothing happens, but then John B hears some shuffling inside. The door opens slightly, until it catches on the locked door chain. Luke regards him, dazed and distant. John B can smell the alcohol right away. Jesus.

Luke doesn’t say anything, so John B goes first. “Um,” he says, “Is JJ here?”

Luke hums, rubs a grubby hand over his face. “Little shit’s been holed up in his room all day.”

“Can I see him?” John B asks. “We can hang at mine.”

Luke shakes his head. “He’s sick. Sorry, son.”

John B frowns. Being sick has always been JJ’s excuse for skipping school, and he’s a champ at concocting believable doctor’s notes, but in the seven years that they’ve known each other, the only times John B has seen JJ sick is when he’s had too much to drink.

John B opens his mouth to shout JJ’s name and get his attention, but Luke interjects. “I’ll tell him to come see you when he’s feelin’ better, yeah? Bye, kid.”

Just like that, John B’s faced with a closed door. He frowns. John B knows that JJ’s relationship with his dad is complicated at times, but something feels… off. He thinks it over on the way home, but he can’t quite put his finger on it.

John B doesn’t feel like sitting alone in his house, so he does some maintenance work on the Pogue and has a beer on the porch after he’s done. His phone dings with a text from Kie. It’s a playful selfie of her holding her hand against her temple in the form of a gun.

_Save me pls,_ she says.

John B chuckles.

_nope. kook land = hostile territory. sorry not sorry_ , he texts back.

He mimics her selfie and sends it back to her. _i’m so bored i wanna eat myself_

_Awe, no, don’t do that. Self-cannibalism isn’t sexy. Go bother JJ maybe??_

John B sighs. For someone who likes to fend for himself, he’s really fucking codependent on his friends.

_can’t. he’s sick_

Kie’s response is almost immediate. _Trust JJ to get shitfaced on a school night_

_no like sick for real. stopped by but his dad wouldn’t let me in & was too drunk to have a conversation w me obviously, _John B sends her.

Kie takes a few minutes this time. It’s completely dark outside by the time she texts him again, the only bit of light coming from the shitty old porch light and John B’s phone.

_Yikes. That man gives me the creeps highkey_

John B agrees and is about to text Kie as much, when he hears the undeniable sound of a motorcycle approaching. It pulls up on his driveway. Because of the dark, John B can’t actually see who it is, but by the motorcycle and the walk, he knows it’s JJ.

Excited, John B jumps up and runs to meet JJ halfway between his parked bike and the house. “Yo dude, I thought you were sick!”

JJ doesn’t respond right away, just stands there, a few steps away from John B. John B’s eyes start adjusting to the darkness a little bit, enough so that he can see that JJ looks pissed. Really fucking pissed.

“I ask one thing, one fucking thing of you, and you can’t even do that?” JJ asks, anger clear in his voice, “Don’t come to my fucking house!”

John B holds up his hands. “Sorry dude, I was just-“

“One thing!” JJ yells, shoving John B hard, sending him stumbling backwards.

“JJ, chill, okay? I’m sorry, Jesus.”

JJ isn’t deterred and steps closer again, clearly on the offense. John B really doesn’t fucking feel like having a fight with JJ when they haven’t even seen each other in days. He’s about to try to calm JJ down, when the dim porch light hits JJ’s face and John B gets an actual good look at him.

His face is littered with bruises. One black eye, a split lip, small cuts everywhere, swelling on his cheek. There’s some dried blood on his temple, and in his hair.

“JJ?” John B asks, “What the fuck happened?”

The look on JJ’s face falters for only half a second. “Why did you come to my house?”, he asks instead of answering John B’s question. He’s not shouting anymore, but John B can hear the anger in his voice, still.

“I don’t know, Pope’s off helping his dad, Kie’s doing some Kook bullshit, I fucking hate sitting here alone and I miss you, man, I haven’t seen you in days,” John B says, “Did you get in a fight?”

“Yes,” says JJ, “And don’t come to my house without asking.”

“Okay, Jesus,” John B says, tired of this conversation, “Who the fuck did you get in a fight with?”

“Doesn’t matter,” JJ responds, starting to walk back to his motorcycle, “Everyone on this island is an asshole except you, me, Pope and Kie.”

John B goes after JJ and grabs his arm to stop him. There’s bruises there, too. “Hey, whoa,” he says, “You know I’m always up for revenge on some Kooks. Just gotta know who I’m fighting. Come on, tell me.”

JJ’s eyes are fixed on John B’s hand around his arm. John B can _feel_ the tension in his body. Saying the wrong thing will probably land him a matching black eye. “JJ, who did this?” John B insists.

JJ’s anger seems to suddenly multiply by ten. He jerks his arm out of John B’s grasp and honest-to-fucking-God starts screaming now.

“Do you need me to fucking spell it out for you, John B?! What’s not clicking in that brain of yours?!” JJ yells, poking his finger against his temple.

John B starts mentally going over everyone they’ve had beef with, but none of them would trigger this kind of anger in JJ. Not directed at John B, anyway.

“JJ-“

“No!” JJ screams. “You wanna have this conversation? Let’s fucking have this conversation.”

“JJ, what the hell are you talking about?”

JJ doesn’t miss a beat. There’s a fierce look in his eyes, and something else, John B can’t place it. “You’re so fucking slow sometimes, Jesus. Where have I been all day?”

“Home?” John B replies, frowning in confusion.

“Ding ding ding, right answer! You win the big prize!”

John B is still confused.

Until he isn’t. Until the events of the day click in his head, and John B’s heart drops. Luke was drunk. Wouldn’t let him in. “No,” is the only word he can say.

“Yep,” JJ says, “I gotta go. Don’t show up like that again.”

JJ starts walking back to his bike, but John B circles around him and blocks his path.

“Whoa whoa whoa, you’re not going back there, JJ, are you crazy? What the fuck.”

“Well, if I don’t, it’ll just be worse tomorrow. I like my fights in small doses, thank you kindly. Otherwise, this happens.” JJ says, generally gesturing at his own face.

“You’re staying here.” John B says, firm. JJ takes a step closer regardless, so John B turns around and grabs the keys out of the ignition of JJ’s bike.

He holds them above his head. “I swear I’ll throw ‘em, and then you’ll never find them.”

“Give me the fucking keys.”

“No. Go inside.”

And JJ does, thank fuck. John B hears a muttered _“I swear to fucking God”_ as JJ heads inside. John B follows behind him.

“Sit,” John B says when JJ just stands there in the middle of the messy living room. He starts pulling open kitchen cabinets in search of the first aid kit.

Of course, JJ protests. “No need for that.”

“For once in your damn life, can you just make something easy for me?” John B asks.

“Oh my god, fine.”

John B gets to work cleaning up the blood on JJ’s face and disinfecting the cuts. Distantly, his brain tells him that JJ probably has bruises all over his body, but John B can’t _take this_ all at once, so he focuses on JJ’s face for now. And fuck, up close, JJ’s eyes are so, so blue. Even battered and bruised, he’s fucking beautiful. _No,_ John B thinks, and shoves those feelings, whatever they are, into the same dark corner he’s been putting them in for months. _It’s not like that, it’ll never be like that._

John B puts some distance between them on the couch when he’s finished. JJ stays silent, and then another piece of the puzzle falls into place in John B’s head.

“JJ, is this why you skip school?” John B asks, “So people won’t see-“

“Sometimes,” JJ says.

“You lied to me. I thought you were helping your dad with a job or some shit.”

John B isn’t… angry. Not at JJ.

“I never lied,” JJ insists, “It’s what I said the first time, when it was true. After that you just assumed. I’m a liar, but I never lie to you.”

They kind of have a code. Some things, they hide from Kie and Pope, or they polish up the story a little bit, because there’s no use getting into a fight over stupid shit. But John B and JJ, they don’t lie to each other, ever. That’s their code. JJ is getting out of a violation on a technicality, apparently.

“I’m gonna kill him,” John B says. He doesn’t have to say who.

“That’s great, John B. Yeah, you’ll go to prison for murder, and I’ll be put in foster care. Better yet, why don’t we frame some Kook for it? That way, when DCS finally catches up and figures out that your uncle is in fucking Mississippi, maybe they’ll place us with the same family! We’ll be brothers, and all will be well. I hear foster care is a flawless system.”

“You _have_ to tell someone, JJ,” John B insists.

“Like who, the cops? When have they ever actually helped a Pogue?”

John B sighs and gets up to get an icepack from the freezer. He hands it to JJ silently, who quickly shoves it under his shirt and pushes it against his left side, wincing. John B catches only a glimpse of bruising.

“You’re not telling Kie and Pope either, you got it?”

John B is tired of arguing, so he nods. He just wants to be there for JJ right now.

“How long?”

JJ shrugs.

“How long, JJ?”

“I don’t know, okay? My dad’s never been the warm and fuzzy type. But he started drinking more a few months ago, and taking pills, so he just gets into it with me sometimes. I was gonna tell you, but then your dad ran off again and you were upset, and then he vanished and it didn’t matter anymore.”

“Didn’t matter?” John B asks, “JJ, of fucking course it matters.”

Guilt washes over him when he realizes he’s been too distracted by his own shit to even notice JJ has been getting beat up by his own father. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“Okay,” John B says. “Come on, you pull out the bed and I’ll get you some blankets, yeah?”

JJ nods, and John B can tell all the fight has left his body. He looks so fucking exhausted. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

They make the bed together in silence. JJ gets comfortable while John B puts the ice pack back in the freezer. His heart aches. _Fuck._

When he looks at JJ again, there’s something on his face. He looks… vulnerable. Scared. Young.

“What’s the matter?” John B asks.

“Um,” JJ says, “Can you lock the doors?”

“Yeah,” John B says, half-word, half-sigh. “’course, JJ.”

When he’s done, he hovers by the light switch. “Goodnight, I guess.”

“G’night, John B.”

John B clicks off the light, but he can’t get himself to move. It doesn’t feel right, going to sleep in his bed, leaving JJ on his own. _Fuck it,_ he thinks for the second time that day, and slides in next to JJ.

For a few seconds, nothing happens.

“Cozy,” JJ says eventually.

He’s never known how to deal with affection, or comfort, or PDA. John B’s starting to understand why. “Deal with it,” he says, scooting closer.

“You seducin’ me?”

“Don’t make it weird, you ass,” John B responds, “Come on, on your side, big man.”

“Huh?”

“You said cozy, we’re getting cozy.”

John B waits for JJ to shift on the bed so he can curl around him. Spooning. They’re spooning. John B tries really hard to ignore those thoughts in the dark corner of his mind and carefully puts an arm around JJ, mindful of his bruised body.

“This good?” he asks.

“Not made of glass, John B.”

“Roger that, chief.”

That’s all the permission he needs to press himself close to JJ, hoping it can provide some comfort. A moment passes, and then JJ grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers. Okay. Yeah, okay.

John B waits patiently for JJ’s body to stop shivering with tension. After what feels like an eternity, JJ relaxes and finally, finally falls asleep.

_I’m never letting him out of my sight_ , John B thinks.

He loves him, and it hurts, but that’s okay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one, but it was so nice waking up this morning to kudos and feedback! So glad you guys like this.
> 
> Comments appreciated!
> 
> Come talk to me on Tumblr! https://closertome.tumblr.com/

When John B stirs awake, JJ is still fast asleep next to him. Carefully, John B moves away from JJ’s sleeping form and sits up, taking a moment to gather himself. His mind is still reeling with the events of last night – JJ’s anger, the bruising on his face, the realization of what’s been happening, for _months._ Glancing back at JJ, John B is overcome with the urge to lift up the hem of his best friend’s shirt and assess the damage. He digs is nails into his palm and resists. It wouldn’t be right.

Instead, John B slips out of bed quietly so as not to wake JJ up, and goes for a quick shower. _I’m gonna kill him_ , he thinks again while he lets the water run over his back. But he can’t, and JJ doesn’t want to go to the cops, so the situation is looking pretty bleak right about now. John B just hopes he can convince JJ to stay at the Chateau for a while, so he can figure something out. They always figure something out. Plan, gear up, execute.

He gets changed in his room and grabs some clean clothes for JJ as well, since he didn’t bring anything with him last night. John B’s sure JJ will have something to say about it, because he likes to be difficult, but it’ll have to do. He heads back out to the living room and JJ has shifted, but is still asleep. _Breakfast_ , John B thinks.

After that, it doesn’t take long. John B’s working on some scrambled eggs and bacon when he hears a groan behind him, followed up by rustling sheets. When he turns around, JJ’s sitting up, eyes still closed, hair tousled. The bruising is much clearer in the daylight.

“Mhm,” JJ says, “Food.”

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey. Literally.”

That’s about enough to get JJ to open his eyes and get moving. He stands up and stretches, popping a few bones. The movement lifts his shirt up slightly, so John B gets a look at the purple-and-blue bruising painted across JJ’s abdomen.

JJ catches him staring. “Shut up,” he says.

“Take a shower then, stinky,” John B says, “I’ll be done when you get out. There’s clean clothes in the bathroom.”

And then there’s that _look_ on JJ’s face, the one that makes him JJ, the one that tells John B he’s about to turn on the quick wit and snarky comments. Once JJ turns on, there’s no stopping him until he tires himself out or someone pisses him off. John B loves it. Other people find it annoying, or loud, or unnecessary, but it’s what makes him who he is. JJ is so fucking smart, and no one sees it. Not book smart, or Pope smart, he’s just sharp, one step ahead of you all the time. John B can’t keep up with him, but he loves to try.

“You want me to wear your clothes?” JJ asks with _that_ glint in his eye, “What is this, a mating ritual? Did you cut a strand of my hair while I was sleeping? Be honest.”

“Did you want to wear dirty clothes?” John B throws back.

“I’m a dirty boy,” JJ says, mock-innocence in his voice.

“You’re like, actually insufferable.”

“Don’t go all Luke on me now,” JJ says, heading into the bathroom.

It’s a joke, but the subject of it is not a laughing matter. John B wants to say something, but this is what JJ does, it’s how he copes. There’s no use telling him not to. John B pops some bread in the toaster and finishes making breakfast while JJ showers.

“Y’know, John B, people talk a lot of shit about you,” JJ says when he sits down at the table, “But I gotta say, you’re wife material. Making me breakfast and giving me clean clothes, look at you. I should wife you up right now.”

John B hums. “I think I’d end up killing you within five years.”

“Fair point,” JJ says, “Maybe you should marry a rich old Kook. Call him daddy, then run off with his money after he dies. And share it with me, obviously. We’ll run off into the sunset.”

“Keep dreaming, bro,” John B says around a mouthful of eggs.

JJ points his fork at him. “I always do.”

John B’s mind sends him a mental image of leaning across the table and kissing JJ, right then and there, and he thinks, _What the fuck?_ But JJ’s sitting there, all blonde hair and blue eyes, relaxed as if the events of yesterday are a distant memory from years ago. _Get it together._

If he stares any longer, John B will definitely look like a creep, so he grabs his phone instead. There’s a couple of notifications from their group chat.

_Pope: You guys are assholes._

_Kie: ????????_

_Pope: Not you. Dumb and Dumber skipped school without telling me._

_Kie: JJ’s sick (and still phoneless lol). John B is an asshole though, have to agree._

The messages are from an hour ago, but John B types out a reply anyway.

_John B: thanks kie. @pope it’s not as if you’d skip w us if we told u so???? sorry boo_

They’re both in class, so he’s not expecting a reply anytime soon. The circumstances are not optimal, but regardless, John B’s glad he gets to spend an entire day with JJ, just the two of them. He knows they’re not going to talk about Luke, and that’s okay. JJ’s here, he’s safe, where John B can see him, so that’s all that matters. They’ll figure something out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone!!
> 
> i'm so sorry for my long absence - a lot is going on in the world and in my life and i didn't feel inspired for a while.
> 
> your comments are seriously so sweet and encouraging.
> 
> here's a lil update, hope you like!

JJ stays for a few days. In the absence of immediate emotional distress, John B no longer has an excuse to share the couch bed with JJ, so he sleeps in his own room. Still, it’s nice. They sleep in on the weekend, do some maintenance on the van, take the Pogue for a ride and drink beers on the porch. For one glorious weekend, it’s just him and JJ in their little bubble.

On Sunday evening, reality rears its ugly head.

“School tomorrow?” John B asks.

JJ shrugs and takes a drag of his blunt, then hands it to John B. “I suppose. Have to get my stuff first, though.”

“I’m coming with you.”

JJ shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“I wasn’t asking,” John B says, handing the blunt back to him.

“Neither was I.”

“JJ-“

“Nope,” JJ says, taking another drag, “Whatever state dad’s in, you being there won’t make it any better.”

John B sighs. “It’s not fair. None of this shit’s fair.”

And it’s true. It’s all bullshit, this island, the ridiculous social divide it harbors, Pope having to work his ass off for a future that Kooks can just buy for themselves, Kie feeling out-of-place everywhere. JJ’s dad. John B’s dad.

When John B looks up, JJ is looking at him. Actually looking. It’s real, raw, caring. Rare for JJ. It’s unbearably intimate. “You good?” JJ asks.

The _Yeah, I’m fine_ is right there on the tip of his tongue. It’s a reflex. People have asked him if he’s okay so often these past few months, and John B doesn’t see the point in telling them that he isn’t, because it wouldn’t change anything. But he doesn’t lie to JJ. “I miss my dad, man.”

JJ nods. Then scoots closer until their thighs are touching. John B kind of feels like he’s on fire. It’s so much raw emotion, and JJ is so close, and so far out of John B’s reach.

“I know,” JJ says.

And then John B’s crying, and JJ puts an arm around him, pulls John B’s face into the space between his neck and his shoulder. They fit like puzzle pieces. John B thanks whatever God there is that he still has the clarity of mind not to get even closer. He resists the urge to crawl into JJ’s lap and twists a hand in the front of JJ’s t-shirt instead. He’s sobbing.

JJ’s hand travels up John B’s back and then his fingers are in John B’s hair. And JJ knows him so fucking well, knows John B is not one for soft shush-ing or caressing, so JJ massages his fingertips on John B’s scalp firmly, tugs on his hair a bit, and holds him tight and close. It’s grounding and centering in a way John B can’t quite describe. He’s not sure it would even work if it wasn’t JJ.

John B doesn’t know how long they sit there like that, but eventually, he calms down and is just kind of lying there, limp against JJ’s shoulder. He’s tired. JJ’s hand is still in his hair. John B lifts his head and sees blue. They’re so close. He could kiss JJ and barely move a muscle.

JJ puts his hands on both sides of John B’s face and wipes his tears away with his thumbs. “Hey,” he says.

John B is too tired to stop himself from mirroring JJ’s gesture, so he carefully touches his fingers to the fading bruises on JJ’s cheeks. “Hey,” he says back.

“We should start a band and call it Daddy Issues,” JJ says.

And then John B’s laughing, honest and loud, throwing his head back, and JJ is laughing too, all sharp teeth and shining eyes, and they look like idiots, and it’s wonderful, and the neighbors down the street are probably very annoyed. John B slumps against JJ’s side, catching his breath.

“C’mon, champ,” JJ says, “let’s go to sleep.”

Later, when John B gets comfortable on the pull-out rather than crawling into his own bed, JJ doesn’t say anything of it. Instead he mirrors John B’s gesture from a few nights ago and curls around him, sliding an arm around John B’s side. They’re asleep within minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on Tumblr! https://closertome.tumblr.com/


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I'd like to apologize for the long break. A global pandemic, heartbreak, and a heatwave don't help with my writing process. These two are always on my mind though, so here's another chapter!
> 
> As always, thank you so much for your kudos and kind comments. They really keep me going!

John B can’t stay still. Regardless, Pope is too busy reading a book to notice him fidgeting. Kie would definitely get annoyed if she was here, but she goes to school far away from Kildare County High, so John B continues shifting his weight from one foot to the other. JJ dipped early this morning to go home, get clean clothes and his backpack. John B hasn’t seen him in over an hour and considering the state JJ was in the last time John B let him out of his sight, he kind of wants to get in his van and just drive to JJ’s house.

He’s startled out of his thought spiral by his phone buzzing against his thigh. When he fishes it out of his pocket, the screen lights up with a text from an unknown numbler. _new phone, who dis?_ it reads. John B frowns and looks up, and his eyes fall on JJ, walking up to them with a grin on his face, holding up a phone. John B sees no new bruises, although the black eye is still fading. The bruises under JJ’s shirt are, too, John B knows. No one’s going to question it though, because JJ’s reputation as a scrappy kid is kind of basic island knowledge by now.

“Gotta love Lost & Found at the harbor,” JJ says when he’s within earshot, “Kooks really drop phones on the ferry like they’re spare change.”

Pope looks up, finally. “To them, it is,” he says, “Who’d you fight?”

John B shifts again. JJ doesn’t flinch.

“You wanna be an accomplice?,” JJ asks, still grinning.

“Hm, no thanks,” says Pope, “Oh by the way, I hate you guys.”

JJ mocks taking offense to Pope’s statement by gasping and putting a hand over his heart. “Excuse me?” he says.

“I haven’t seen you or heard from you in days! Not cool.”

“Aw,” says JJ, frowning and stepping closer, “Are you touch-starved? Need some JJ-love?”

JJ then puts his arms around Pope in a bear hug, squeezing him way tighter than is strictly necessary. Pope grimaces and pushes him away. “Get off me, you weirdo,” he says.

“I’m not the one reading books about dead bodies, boo,” JJ counters.

“It’s educational.”

“It’s creepy, is what it is.”

Pope opens his mouth to say something else, but the bell rings.

“Hold that thought,” JJ says, “Gotta get this sexy ass to class!”

They’ve got first period together, so John B trails behind JJ, leaving Pope behind to go to his AP US History class. John B tries to keep his mouth shut, but the question slips out anyway.

“Everything good?” he asks JJ.

“Yep,” says JJ, “In and out, no trouble. Did you wanna do a checkup? I know you like seeing me naked.”

John B’s heart does something weird as he tries to come up with an equally witty response, but he’s interrupted by Mr Summers as they enter the classroom.

“Mr Maybank, Mr Routledge. So kind of you to grace us with your presence this morning.”

John B smiles. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Mr Summers.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice your synchronous absences last week.”

“It’s inevitable, we’re soulmates,” JJ says, “In sickness and in health and all that.”

It’s a joke, but John B wishes it wasn’t. The look on Mr Summers’ face says he’s not amused by their responses, so John B sits down at his desk quietly. JJ sits behind him - they usually don’t get away with sitting next to each other anymore – and leans forward.

“Who the fuck says “synchronous”?” he whispers.

John B just about stops himself from audibly snorting and grabs his notebook instead, hiding a smile behind his hand.

At the end of class, they get last week’s test back. JJ spots the big, red D- on John B’s while he packs up his stuff.

“Yikes,” JJ says.

John B shrugs. “Better than not taking it at all.”

“I think I had a good reason,” JJ responds, but he doesn’t sound angry. It’s just a statement, so John B leaves it.

“Can you sign this for me later?” he asks. As with most illegal things, JJ is a champ at forging signatures. John B doesn’t think Luke has ever signed anything school-related for JJ in his life.

“You got it, chief.”

When it comes down to it, it is alarmingly easy to deceive DCS. Once Uncle T became John B’s legal guardian, and his social worker deemed him to be in a “safe home”, they mostly left him alone. He has to check in with her occasionally, but that’s about it. Uncle T does come back every once in a while, so he’ll show his face and all will be well.

John B misses his dad, but he’s got good friends and a roof over his head. Things could be worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on Tumblr! https://closertome.tumblr.com/


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a bit of a longer one!
> 
> I want to preface this chapter by saying I find it kind of difficult to pinpoint when exactly the events of S1 take place, which also affects this story since it would indicate when John B’s dad went missing and when he was asked to sign the papers for presumption of death.
> 
> I seem to vaguely recall watching some BTS and interview stuff with the cast/crew where it was mentioned the show is supposed to emulate the feeling of late summer. Purely visually, the show can kind of have that late summer warm glow, however, there are two instances that indicate a specific timing of an event and I’ve decided to go off of those:
> 
> 1\. Midsummer is celebrated on a Friday between June 20th and 26th – for 2019, that would have been June 21st, meaning that is the date on which episode 5 takes place
> 
> 2\. In the first episode, John B seems to talk to his social worker at school. I can’t imagine him being called in unless the school year is actually still going on, which leads me to believe that the show starts right as the school year ends and summer break begins. I admit that it can be possible that this isn’t at school but somewhere else, but the timing of Midsummer still stands for episode 5. In episode 5, John B also visits his school shortly, and that scene does seem to imply that it takes place sometime shortly after the school year has ended – people are doing maintenance work, moving boxes around, and the teacher seems to be packing some things up.
> 
> This timeline also means that the events of episodes 1-5 take place over the span of about 2 weeks, which is a very eventful half a month if you ask me, but ya know, teenagers! Sheriff Peterkin does mention JJ committed all the felonies/crimes he’s been charged with “in the last two weeks” at the beginning of episode 5 so it works.
> 
> More importantly, this places the disappearance sometime in September. John B also mentions in episode 1 that the police presumed his dad dead three months after his disappearance and wanted him to sign papers, meaning that the holidays were coming up when this happened. Which is very sad but also a perfect opportunity for angst and feelings. So :)

December sucks. There’s no way around it. Back in September, when his dad didn’t return from another futile hunt for some mythical shipwreck, John B never considered the idea that he’d be spending the holidays alone. He can’t really find the energy to put up their crappy Christmas tree with cheap decorations. There’s no point without dad.

The only good thing is that winter brings the highest waves the OBX sees all year, so the surfing’s cold, but good. Because JJ is a good fucking friend, he knows exactly when the three month mark since the disappearance arrives. It’s a Saturday, and John B doesn’t have to work, because his bosses think throwing him a pity party is what he needs. It isn’t – because now he has a whole lot of nothing to focus on. Fuck.

John B desperately wants to sleep in, but he wakes up at 6 and the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. In an attempt to stop thinking about how every day, week and month it becomes less and less likely that his father is going to turn up alive, or turn up at all, John B decides to take the Pogue out and watch the sunrise on the marsh. It’s beautiful and peaceful and a bunch of other adjectives, but John B still feels like shit. Because it makes no damn difference where he is today, he decides to just go back to The Chateau an hour later. At least he’ll be kind of close to his dad, there.

And then there JJ is, sitting on John B’s front porch, smoking a cigarette. He’s got his backpack, and his surfboard is leaning against the railing. It’s kind of torture, how JJ looks good any time of year, any time of day. December’s chilly, even in the Outer Banks, so JJ’s sitting there in his sweater, hair tousled the way it always is, not quite as blonde because it hasn’t seen the summer sun in a few months. He looks sleepy, relaxed. JJ takes a lazy drag of his cigarette and smiles, and John B thinks he might die.

“The King returns,” JJ says when John B steps on the porch.

John B hums. “Sorry. Was out on the marsh.”

“Poetic,” JJ says.

“What are you doing here?”

JJ lightly kicks his surfboard with the heel of his boot. “Knitting.”

“Don’t you have work?” John B asks.

“Nah.”

“JJ-“

“Okay, Sad Brown Eyes,” JJ says, “Why don’t you shut up and strap our boards to the van so we can go pick up Pope and Kie? Kinda rude to keep them waiting, don’t you think?”

John B gives him a look.

“Yep, the whole Scooby gang’s coming,” JJ says as he gets up. “It’ll be a lot easier if you don’t resist.”

John B relents and goes to grab his surfboard. JJ gives him a hand strapping both of their boards to the roof of the van and then they’re off.

It’s really not that cold, but Kie’s got this cute little beanie on, although it can barely tame her curls. Pope, ever the gentleman, is carrying her cooler. Once their boards are loaded up, they get into the back of the van and Kie leans over the driver’s seat, kissing John B on the cheek.

“Hey,” she says, “How are you?”

“Dumb question,” JJ comments, then points at his own cheek. “Anyway, I’m sad too.”

Kie shoves him lightly before getting comfortable behind John B. “You’re gross.”

“Why is it that every time we do this, I feel like a soccer mom driving her kids to practice?” John B asks.

“I’m the well-behaved one, then,” Pope says, giving JJ a look.

“You’re a smartass,” John B responds.

“Now you really sound like my mom.”

“Aw, John B, you’re a MILF,” says JJ.

“See?” Kie says, “Gross.”

The banter and teasing continues the entire car ride. It’s nice, that his friends just act the way they always do. John B’s kind of tired of people asking him if he’s okay or if he needs anything. _No, I’m not okay, my dad is missing, yes, I need him._ With his friends, life goes on. Pope’s awkward, Kie is passionate and JJ is… JJ. They talk, they drink, they fish, they surf. The waves are good, when they get to the beach. John B smiles to himself.

The boys let Kie change in the van while they put on their own wetsuits. John B gets only a glimpse of JJ’s torso, but the brief flash of his ribs is undeniably stained blue-and-yellow. It’s not fresh, but it must’ve happened recently. JJ catches his eyes and gives him a look that says _Shut up_ while he zips up his wetsuit. After that, they waste no time making a run for the water while Pope yells “Cold, cold cold!”, and then, they’re surfing.

This, John B loves. Surfing is so physical that he can just shut his brain off and give himself to the waves. It’s fun, when it’s the four of them, cheering each other on, Kie yelling at JJ when he does something risky and freaking out when he takes a little long to come back up after falling. He always laughs at her for it, and she always splashes him with water in return.

And yeah, watching JJ surf is a fucking treat. JJ is absolutely fearless, always wants to go higher, bigger, better. From the determined look on his face when he’s about to catch a wave to the grin when he rides it perfectly, it’s all beautiful to look at. Because it’s a shitty fucking day, John B allows himself to stare just a little bit.

When they’re done, they start a campfire on the beach and drink beer from Kie’s cooler. John B feels… he wouldn’t call it good, all things considered, but he’s at peace. This day would have been a lot worse if JJ hadn’t showed up at The Chateau this morning.

Kie points at him with the neck of her beer bottle. “I spy a smile,” she says, “and I’m gonna make you even happier. With free food.”

John B frowns. “Free food?” he asks, “I thought your dad kind of hated us.”

“Well yeah,” Kie says, “but he’s a sucker for sob stories, so.”

JJ perks up. “Oh my god, I wonder if that would work on chicks.”

“Oh, okay,” John B says, “So my missing dad is a ‘sob story’ now, that we use to manipulate people?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kie says, “I thought the man who’s getting a free dinner said something. Also, speaking of chicks.” Kie pauses to take a sip of her beer. “Who you boys kissing on New Year’s?”

Pope’s the first to respond. “So far, no one.”

“Yeah, keep dreaming, bro”, JJ says, “We all know I’m the charmer of the group. Someone’s gotta do it.”

“I take it you have a date, then?” Kie asks in a mocking tone.

JJ glares at her. “Not necessarily.”

Kie nods. “Not necessarily,” she echoes.

“Whatever, neither does John B,” JJ says, “Besides, I think there’s a very obvious solution to the problem we have here.” JJ gives Kie a pointed look.

“Oh my god, ew,” Kie says. “First of all, we have a rule here. Second of all, I wouldn’t kiss any of you, let alone _all_ of you.”

JJ gasps. “And why not?”

Pope chimes in. “Yeah, I’d like to know too, actually.”

“Okay, you really wanna know?” Kie asks.

JJ nods. “Lay it on me.”

“Okay. _You,_ ” she says, pointing at JJ, “smell like boy and weed, and not in a good way.” (John B disagrees, but that’s beside the point.) Kie shifts her attention to Pope. “ _You_ talk about dead bodies farting way too often.”

Finally, Kie turns to John B. “And _you,_ ” she says, “Well, you would just be too damn pleased with yourself.”

John B hums. “Yeah, that is true, actually.”

“I rest my case,” Kie says.

When they get to The Wreck, dinner tastes heavenly, and not just because it’s free. John B tries to ignore the sympathetic looks from Kie’s dad and simply enjoy his food, making sure to thank him before they leave. Then he drops Pope off and drives straight to The Chateau without asking JJ. After what he saw earlier, John B doesn’t want JJ anywhere near his dad right now, and John B also kind of doesn’t want to be alone, so it works out. They drive in agreeable silence while JJ rolls a blunt in the passenger’s seat.

John B stretches after he parks the van. “Fuck, I’m exhausted.”

“Well, you had a big day, champ,” JJ says, bumping John B’s shoulder.

John B snorts. JJ’s ridiculous.

“Come on,” JJ says, “Let’s go light this up, I wanna get blazed.”

They get comfortable on the porch and JJ lights up.

“How you feeling?”

“Kinda wanted to ask you the same question,” John B responds.

JJ, aware what John B is referring to, tugs on his sweater, like he’s trying to hide the already covered bruises. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Oh yeah?” John B says, “Then why don’t you let me return the favor?”

“Because he’ll kill you.”

John B scoffs. “At least he’ll go to prison.”

“Yeah, and you’ll be dead,” JJ says, “Look, can we just smoke this? I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“You never do,” John B says.

Clearly done with the conversation, JJ offers him the blunt. John B declines. “I’m good.”

“Oh, come on, live a little.”

John B shakes his head, prompting a sigh from JJ. “Okay, let’s shotgun it then,” JJ says.

“Shotgun?” John B can’t help the surprise in his voice. What?

“Yeah, you know,” JJ says, “When you inhale and then-“

“No, I know what shotgunning is,” John B interrupts.

JJ raises his eyebrows. “Well?”

Somewhere in the back of John B’s mind, a voice says _Don’t do this._ Except John B can’t quite believe JJ is proposing this so casually, like it’s nothing, when in John B’s book, it’s a fairly intimate thing to do. So, fuck it. “Yeah, okay,” John B says, getting closer.

JJ grins and scoots closer as well. “Now we’re talkin’.”

They’re sitting facing each other under the dim porch light, mere inches between their faces. JJ takes a long drag and then gently grabs John B’s face to bring him closer and hold him steady while he exhales. John B almost, _almost_ forgets to inhale, drowning in this surreal moment, but then he remembers. He coughs a bit at the end.

JJ grins again and sits back. “Attaboy.”

John B knows weed is supposed to be relaxing, but instead, every single one of his nerve endings seems to be on fire, and now all he can feel is disappointment that JJ is no longer touching him. Against his better judgement, he says, “Again.”

JJ’s all too happy to comply. This time, when he puts his hands on the sides of John B’s face, John B places his own hands around JJ’s wrists like an anchor, closes his eyes, and inhales not just the blunt smoke coming from JJ’s lips, but also the addictive feeling of having JJ so goddamn _close_ , touching him like it’s nothing, like it’s normal. John B revels in it, wants to know how far this can go. So when JJ drops his hands, John B keeps one of his around JJ’s wrist and gets comfortable against him. JJ doesn’t say a thing, just lets John B mold against the unbruised side of his body. So they smoke like that, passing the blunt back and forth on John B’s porch. At some point, John B starts drawing small circles with his thumb on the inside of JJ’s wrist, and still, JJ doesn’t say anything. _Fuck_ , John B thinks, _he’d never let me do this if he wasn’t high._ JJ puts his free hand in John B’s hair. _Fuck._

High, lazy and sleepy, they decide to go to bed. No questions asked, no words exchanged, they get on the pullout together. Again, no one speaks, but JJ still curls around John B and pulls him close, and the last thing John B thinks before he falls asleep is that he is so, _so_ screwed.

On Sunday morning, they wake up late, in the exact same position. John B’s awake first and doesn’t move a muscle, but it doesn’t take long for JJ to stir as well, making soft sounds in the back of his throat. John B’s going to lose his mind, if he hasn’t already. He prays to whatever god there is that JJ, who’s hand is currently on John B’s bare chest, doesn’t feel his heart beating suspiciously fast. If he does, he says nothing of it.

John B has to put some distance between himself and JJ like right now, before he does something catastrophically stupid like taking JJ’s hand and kissing the back of it, or before his body takes notice of how close they are and responds accordingly. He tries to keep his voice calm. “Scoot. I wanna shower.”

JJ lets go of him and hums. “Yeah, you smell like boy and weed, and not in a good way.”

John B snorts and heads into the bathroom. “Learn to take a joke, you big baby.”

All in all, it’s a good day. JJ makes them a royal late breakfast/early lunch (which is technically called _brunch_ but they’re not Kooks). They eat, they hang out, JJ helps him fix the pipes under the sink. It’s normal, shockingly so compared to what happened last night. John B tries not to think about it, but he can’t help it. He wants to be close to JJ now, like this, when they’re sober, but he knows that’s not in the cards for them.

JJ doesn’t go home that night, either. The couch bed is pretty much permanently out now anyway, so it’s nice. With both of them sober, and no imminent crisis in sight, John B doesn’t have an excuse to share the couch with JJ again. He gets in his own bed, but spends the night overthinking the last 48 hours rather than sleeping.

Monday, again, is painfully normal. They drive to school, copy Pope’s math homework, annoy their teachers, joke around at lunch. John B aches for something more, impossible as it might be. He catches himself imagining what it would be like, if he was with JJ. Would they sneak around at school, make out in the janitor’s closet between classes? Would other people know? Would Pope get annoyed and tell them to get a room?

_Get it together, John B,_ he thinks. Things are normal, and normal is good. The school day is normal and the drive home is normal. All of that changes, though, as soon as they pull into The Chateau and see Sheriff Peterkin and a deputy waiting on the porch.

Immediately, John B’s heart drops and his mind starts racing with a million questions. Did they find something? Did they find his dad? Did they find a body? Or his boat? Or a body _part?_ Or-

“Hey,” JJ says, putting a hand on John B’s arm, “Calm down, okay? Let’s just see what they want.”

“I can’t,” John B chokes out. He’s white-knuckling the steering wheel.

“Yes, you can,” JJ says before he slides his hands up John B’s arm to gently pry his hand away from the steering wheel. “I’m here, okay? Let’s go. I’m right behind you.”

Somehow John B finds it in himself to get out of the car and walk up to the house. It feels like an eternity. Images of his dad flash by in his mind. JJ’s behind him.

“Sheriff Peterkin,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady, “What brings you here?”

The look on her face tells John B that whatever it is she has to say, he’s gonna be wishing he never heard it pretty soon.

“John B,” she greets, “We knocked but your uncle isn’t home. Can we talk inside?”

“Why?” John B asks. Talking inside with the police is never good.

“I think it’s best if we sit down,” Sheriff Peterkin explains.

John B’s hand shake so much that JJ has to unlock the door for him. He sits down at the kitchen table. Peterkin takes the chair across from him.

“John B,” she says, “There’s no easy way to-“

JJ intervenes, out of patience. “Can we just cut the crap and rip off the bandaid? Why are you here?”

_There’s no easy way to what?_ John B thinks. Peterkin pulls out a paper and places it on the table in front of John B. His vision is kind of swimming, but the title, printed in bold, large black letters, is unmistakable. _Presumption of death_ , the form reads.

“What the fuck,” is all he has. The form is mostly filled out – his dad’s name, date of birth, all that. And there, right there on the paper, the date of death is filled out as today.

“No,” John B says. What the fuck, what the _fuck._

Sheriff Peterkin places a pen next to the form. “We need your signature, John B.”

“No,” he repeats, firmer.

“It’s been three months,” Peterkin says, “With no sign of life from your father.”

“So what,” JJ says, angry, “You’re just gonna stop looking for him?”

The other deputy intervenes. “I’m afraid we have nowhere to look. He disappeared at sea and nothing has turned up. We have sufficient reason to believe he has passed.”

“ _Passed?!”_ John B asks incredulously, “He’s not dead!”

“We’ve exhausted all leads and we’d like to close this investigation,” Peterkin responds, “There are other, more pressing cases that need our resources and attention.”

John B presses his nails into his palms to stop himself from losing it. “Oh, I get it,” he spits, “This is about numbers to you. End of the year is coming up, better close as many cases as possible so you get a raise, right?”

“John B, this isn’t about-“

“Then what is it about?!”, he yells, standing up so quickly his chair falls backwards, “Because my dad isn’t dead, and I’m not signing a fucking _paper_ that says he is!”

Peterkin stands up as well. “John B, if you’d just-“

“NO!”, he screams, ripping up the paper and crumpling up the pieces, “I’m not signing this! Get out!”

In the corner of his eye, he registers Peterkin’s hand move towards her belt. “I advise you to calm down, John B.”

John B breathes out through his nose. “Then get. The fuck. Out. Of. My house.”

And Peterkin does, thank fuck, her deputy following her and closing the door behind them. John B’s standing there, in his kitchen, bewildered and so fucking angry.

JJ is leaning against the counter, looking at him. “John B,” he tries.

“Don’t.” John B says.

“It’s okay, we can-“

“Don’t!” John B repeats, kicking the coffee table so hard it topples over and sends everything on it flying across the room. JJ flinches, and _fuck,_ John B is such an asshole. “He’s not dead.”

“I know, okay?” JJ says, stepping closer to comfort John B.

“Please don’t,” John B says. He can’t do this right now. Can’t handle JJ holding him when it means something entirely different to him, not when the police thinks his dad is dead and is giving up the search for him.

John B needs to be far away from this fucking house, and far away from JJ before he lashes out again and scares him even more. “I have to go,” he says, and heads for the door, to his van, starts the engine end just drives to _anywhere but here_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this, so I hope you loved reading it!!
> 
> Come talk to me on Tumblr! https://closertome.tumblr.com/


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a filler chapter, but the next one will be extra angsty to make up for it.
> 
> Also, I made a Tumblr, feel free to come talk to me there about the story and the characters!!! https://closertome.tumblr.com/

Kie’s the one that finds him eventually. She pokes her head through the hole in the floor of the bell tower and locks eyes with John B, candle light hitting her face. “Coast clear? I come in peace.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” John B sighs, making room for her.

“So,” Kie says, “Hiding in an abandoned church? You’re so angsty.”

John B shrugs. “I wanted to be alone. How’d you find me?”

“Dude, no offense, but you’re not very original,” Kie says, “You always come here when you want to mope around.”

“I’m not moping.”

Kie raises an eyebrow. “Then what are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” John B responds, “My dad loved this place. We have good memories here.”

“Makes you feel close to him?” Kie asks, leaning her head on John B’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I guess.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a while. Kie pulls out her phone and starts one of her playlists. It’s a nice atmosphere, with the candles and the view of the night sky through the window. It’s romantic, actually, but Kie has reminded all of them of their “No Pogue-on-Pogue macking” rule so often that John B’s mind doesn’t really go there these days. John B used to have a crush on her, because it’s not every day that a beautiful girl from the good side of the island gives three guys from The Cut the time of day, but it’s different now. They’re best friends, and it’s good. Kie kind of keeps all of them sane. When it comes down to it, it’s a bit crazy how different John B, Pope and JJ are from each other. Kie balances it out nicely. And she’s the only one that’s good at the emotional stuff, but only when it matters. Like now.

John B breaks the silence. “The last thing I said to him is that he was a shit father.”

“Hey,” Kie says, “He knows you love him, okay? Wherever he is.”

“I just – fuck,” John B says, tearing up a bit. “If he doesn’t turn up soon, Sheryl’s gonna figure out Uncle T isn’t around, and then I’m done for.”

Kie makes eyecontact with him. “We’ll figure it out. We’ve kept DCS off your trail so far, yeah?”

John B rubs a hand down his face. “Yeah. I just don’t want to end up with some foster family on the mainland. I wanna stay here with you guys.”

“You will,” Kie says, taking John B’s hands in hers. “We got you. Right here.”

There’s a lump in his throat. John B tries to swallow it down. “What if he’s dead, Kie?”

Kie squeezes his hands. “Hey, no. Stop thinking like that,” she says, catching John B’s eyes again, “We don’t know that. Remember what I told you?”

John B does remember. “Stay in the moment?”

Kie nods. “Stay in the moment, right here. Right now you’re good, we’re all good. That’s all that matters.”

_We’re all good,_ John B’s mind echoes, showing him images of JJ’s battered face and bruised torso. They’re not all good, but it’s not John B’s place to share that with Kie. “They wanted me to sign a fucking form,” he says instead, “Saying he’s dead. Like it’s nothing.”

“I know,” Kie says, “JJ told me.”

“Pretty sure Peterkin almost arrested me.”

“Well, I’m glad I’m visiting you in a bell tower and not a holding cell,” Kie smiles, “What did you say anyway? JJ looked all freaked out.”

“Fuck,” John B swears, rubbing his hands over his face, “I fucked up.”

“Nah,” says Kie, “It’s JJ. He’s just worried about you.”

John B sighs. “Is he still at The Chateau?”

Kie shakes her head. “No, he went home and called me. Why?”

Immediately, alarm bells go off inside John B’s head. JJ going home… not good. “Shit, when did he call you?”

Kie shrugs. “Couple hours ago, maybe? I came here when you didn’t turn up.”

“Shit,” John B says again, “Can I use your phone? Mine’s dead.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kie says, unlocking her phone and handing it over, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, I just gotta talk to JJ,” John B responds, finding the contact in Kie’s phone.

JJ picks up almost immediately. “Kie? Did you find him?”

“Hey, it’s me,” John B says.

“Oh. Hey, bro. You good?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m good,” John B says, “Kie found me.”

JJ hums. “Yeah I figured it’d be better to send her on the recovery mission. She’s good at this stuff, you know. Not really my forte.”

_I wish you were up here right now,_ John B thinks. “Fuck, JJ, I’m… I’m sorry about earlier.”

“You’re good,” JJ says, “Pretty sure I’d snap off way harder if Peterkin showed up at my house trying to make me sign some bullshit form.”

“No, I mean-“

“I know what you mean,” JJ interrupts, “Just forget about it. It’s fine.”

“Shit, okay,” John B says. “Um…” He hesitates. “Are you- are you, like, safe?”

Kie frowns at him, confused.

“Yeah, golden,” JJ says with ease, “All intact, still pretty.” He pauses. “Listen, if we’re done with 21 questions, I’m gonna go, okay? Dad needs my help with an engine, so.”

John B desperately wants to say he’s coming to pick JJ up, but there’s no use. “Yeah, okay. See you at school I guess.”

“Bye, John B.” JJ hangs up.

Kie takes her phone back and starts making work of blowing out the candles. “What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing,” John B says, “Y’know. JJ things.”

“You both need therapy,” Kie says before she climbs down the ladder.

John B follows behind her, skipping the last few steps in favor of a swift jump down. “Nah, we have you for that.”

Kie looks around the abandoned church, smiling to herself. “Remember when we got married here in 5th grade?”

“Of course,” John B says, “I was a very good groom. I got you flowers and a ring.”

“Um, yeah,” Kie says, raising an eyebrow, “The flowers were poppies you picked at the side of the road and the ring was literally a key chain ring.”

John B scoffs. “I can’t help it that I’m poor. Do I detect some classism, Kook princess?”

Kie shoves him lightly. “Don’t you ever call me that.”

“Hey, you were the one that was partying with them all summer,” John B teases.

“Yeah, and you guys never let me forget it,” Kie says, heading for the door, “Come on, let’s go.”

John B runs after her. “Some spare change, ma’am? I haven’t eaten in 3 days!”

She tries to tackle him on the way out, but John B stops her and ends the scuffle by wrapping an arm around Kie’s shoulders, walking her back to her car.

“You’re so full of it, John B,” Kie says, smiling up at him.

John B wraps her up in a tight hug. “Yeah, I probably am. Thanks, Kie.”

“Yeah, you got it,” Kie says, still pressed against John B. “You gonna be okay or do you need me to come tuck you in?” she asks, letting him go.

John B smiles. “Tempting, but no, I’m good. Text me when you’re home, okay?”

Kie nods and kisses him on the cheek. “Night, John B,” she says before getting in her car.

“Night, Kie.”

John B feels strange on the drive home. Things haven’t really changed, but somehow, everything feels different. The house is the same, but his dad’s absence feels so much louder now. John B is the same, and yet it feels like something’s shifting. And JJ is the same, but something in their bond feels… changed. Not necessarily in a bad way. John B just feels like he’s on the cusp of something, like his life won’t be the same this time next year.

JJ’s not there when John B gets to The Chateau. He already knew that, but it still sucks, even though it’s his own damn fault for storming off like that earlier. John B decides to text him.

_i'm home. thank you,_ is all he can come up with. It would be utterly selfish to ask JJ to come back right now, so he doesn’t.

JJ responds a few minutes later. _yeah no prob. love u bro._

_love u too,_ John B responds, even though he’s not quite sure they’re saying the same thing.

It’s a sleepless night, which doesn’t really help him at school the next day. John B sits in the back of most of his classes and keeps his hood up, doodling rather than taking notes. He can feel JJ’s eyes on him, and even Pope glances back at John B occasionally. He tries not to be annoyed.

On the way to the cafeteria, JJ halts at the vending machines and looks around the hallway. “Keep watch,” he says, stepping closer to the soda machine.

“What are you doing?” Pope asks.

JJ wiggles his fingers at him. “Magic hands. I’m getting a free soda for the sad boy. What’s your poison, John B? Pepsi, 7Up?”

Trust JJ to steal at school. “Does it have beer?” John B asks.

“No, _dad,_ it doesn’t have beer,” JJ responds, “Guess I’ll pick for you.” He hits the machine in a few places and presents John B with a can of Pepsi. A girl walks by and gives JJ a dirty look, but doesn’t try to alert anyone. JJ flashes a flirty grin at her. She scoffs at them and walks into the cafeteria.

John B smiles at JJ, accepting the can and heading for their usual table. “Thanks, man.”

Halfway through lunch, JJ’s checking something on his phone before he perks up, not bothering to swallow his food before talking. “You guys wanna ditch tomorrow? Waves should be good.”

“Can’t,” Pope says, looking away. John B feels kind of bad about how often JJ and him skip school without Pope, but they’re just not quite as academically inclined as he is. College isn’t in the books for John B, so he’d really rather just get the whole school thing over with so he can get a job on the island and surf whenever he wants to.

“Aw, come on,” JJ insists, “Just this once. I’m sure you can afford to miss one day.”

Pope sighs. “I actually really can’t.”

“Or what, you’ll turn into a pumpkin?” JJ asks, throwing a fry at Pope.

“No, it’s… whatever.” Pope responds. “You guys have fun though.”

John B senses there’s something Pope’s not telling them. “Something up?” he asks.

Pope shrugs. “Not if I don’t skip school.”

“Y’know, Pope,” JJ comments, “The whole mysterious thing doesn’t really suit you. Spill.”

Pope sighs again. “I’m… sort of in the running for a merit scholarship,” he says, “For college.”

“Dude, that’s awesome,” John B says, clapping Pope on the shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“You guys weren’t here when I got the news,” Pope says, “And then it just didn’t really matter.”

John B knows Pope is referring to what happened with his dad and the police. “Of course it matters,” he says, tone serious. It feels oddly familiar – like when JJ implied he didn’t tell John B about Luke because he was going through something himself. John B doesn’t want his friends to feel like their shit doesn’t matter just because his dad is missing.

“Well, now you know,” Pope says, lightening up a little, “My grades and attendance kind of have to be perfect.”

“How about we go surfing Saturday, instead?” John B proposes right before the bell rings, indicating they have to get back to class.

JJ protests as he gets up. “But, the waves-“ He shuts up when John B gives him a pointed look.

Pope grins. “Yeah, sounds great, man.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big trigger warning on this one for mentions and depictions of violence, child abuse and blood.

After work on Saturday morning, John B heads back to the Chateau to get his stuff to go surfing. Pope is dropped off by his dad with his board, but JJ hasn’t showed up yet.

“Hey man,” John B greets Pope, grabbing his hand and bumping their shoulders together. He grabs Pope’s board and straps it to the van. “I checked the report, waves should still be nice. So hopefully we won’t have to listen to JJ’s whining about not skipping school the other day.”

“He didn’t text you?” Pope asks.

John B frowns, immediately on edge. “No, what’s up?”

“He can’t make it,” Pope says, “He has to help his dad with something. He was pretty vague so I’m assuming it’s illegal.”

The whole thing stinks to high heaven – JJ only texting Pope and not John B, with a vague excuse, and the same one he uses to skip school, at that.

“Guess it’s just us,” Pope says, getting in the passenger seat.

Next to him behind the steering wheel, John B is momentarily paralyzed, his mind going a million miles an hour. It’s not right. He has to make sure JJ’s okay, but Pope’s here and JJ wouldn’t want him to know.

“Dude, you good?” Pope asks, concerned.

“Fuck, okay,” John B says frantically, making a decision, starting the car and driving away. JJ can hate him for this later, but John B has to make sure he’s safe.

Pope looks alarmed. “John B, you wanna tell me why we’re speeding and why we’re going the wrong way?”

“We’re getting JJ,” John B responds methodically.

“But he said-“

“Pope, just once in your life, can you not question everything?,” John B says, “Just trust me.” He steps on the gas.

“Jesus, okay, John B,” Pope says.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” John B starts, working it out in his head. They have to get around Luke somehow.

“The _plan?”_

John B’s knuckles are white from his grip on the wheel. “Pope, I know you’re freaked out,” John B says, “But I need you right now, okay?”

Pope nods, eyes wide.

“Okay,” John B says as they pull up to JJ’s place. It’s not quiet, like last time. John B can hear loud music coming from inside the house. He makes eye contact with Pope. “We’re gonna go in through the backdoor, you get JJ.”

“What do you mean, _get_ JJ?” Pope asks incredulously.

John B doesn’t have time for this. “Just go to his room and get him to the van,” he says, “I’ll deal with Luke.”

Pope still looks freaked out, but he doesn’t make any more protests or ask any other questions, so John B gets out of the van, leaving the engine running. They circle the house and head for the back porch.

“What the fuck is going on?” Pope whispers.

“Listen, whatever happens, just get JJ and get out, okay?” John B says, “Don’t question it, don’t look back. Open the front door if you can. It’ll be quicker.”

“Dude, I don’t know if I can-“

“You can,” John B insists, “You have to. Trust me on this one. Just get JJ and I’ll deal with everything else. Okay?”

Pope nods. He still looks unsure, but this is their best bet and John B doesn’t want JJ in that house any longer than he needs to be. He tries the door, but it catches. Locked.

“What do we-“ Pope doesn’t get to finish that thought as John B forces the door open with one swift kick. His brain takes half a second to register the scene. The music blasting from JJ’s room, door closed. The mess, everywhere, the smell of alcohol. Luke sitting at the table, surrounded by bottles and tools, looking up at them, drunk but angry. John B sees him register what’s happening, too.

“Go,” John B orders Pope.

Pope, thank God, listens and sprints in the direction of JJ’s room, John B on his heels.

Luke gets up to stop them, grabbing Pope by the arm, hard. “Where the fuck do you think you’re-“

John B shoves Luke, forcing him to let go of Pope. Luke stumbles. John B plants himself in front of Luke with his back to JJ’s door, so Pope can do what he needs to do. Luke looks unhinged, ready to attack. John B realizes that anything could happen right now. He wants to get out without a fight, but the man in front of him looks ready to explode.

“We’re just getting JJ,” John B says firmly.

His eyes land on a broken beer bottle on the floor. There’s blood on it. There’s no blood on Luke. John B sees red. Any desire he had to keep this calm or civil or whatever seeps away. Behind him, the music has gotten louder, the door to JJ’s room now open. He hears Pope speak to JJ, sounding frantic. “I got you, let’s go, come on,” he says.

John B wills himself not to turn around, the risk of making himself vulnerable too high. Instead, he’s still staring at the bloody beer bottle on the floor. He registers a groan from JJ behind him as Pope helps him up. In that moment, something inside John B’s head just snaps and he punches Luke, unable to control his rage any longer. Luke falls, so John B wastes no time getting on top of him, firmly placing his forearm against the man’s neck.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” he spits. He’s barely finished the question when Luke violently knees John B in the side. It’s so painful that John B is forced to loosen his grip, giving Luke the chance to grab him and change their positions, the man now towering over him on the floor, hand on John B’s neck, not enough to cut off his breathing, but enough to hold him in place so he can punch John B in the face with his other hand. It fucking hurts, but John B is too furious to even care. He tries to mirror Luke’s move and knees him in the side, but the man is undeterred.

“John B!” Pope yells. In the corner of his eye, John B sees him, holding a dazed JJ up with an arm under his shoulders. Pope looks terrified, JJ looks ready to jump his father, despite the state he’s in.

“Go,” John B chokes. “Fucking go, Pope!”

Pope hesitates for a split second, looking between John B and JJ, but prioritizes JJ’s safety over John B’s and heads for the front door. Luke is still towering over him. John B can feel him increase the pressure on his neck.

Luke gets right in his face, so close John B can smell the alcohol on his breath. “You think you can come into _my_ house and tell me how to raise _my_ son, kid?”

John B struggles to speak. “He’s not your fucking property, asshole.”

Luke grins. “I know your daddy isn’t around to kick your ass back into line every once in a while, but I’ll gladly do it for him.”

John B wraps his hands around Luke’s wrist, pulling and digging his nails in, trying to get him to let go of his neck, but it’s futile. The man is probably too intoxicated to care. John B can’t breathe anymore. He has to do something. The broken beer bottle is still on the floor, right in the corner of John B’s eye. Luke may be stronger than him, but he’s also too drunk to notice John B stretching his fingers and grabbing the neck of the bottle.

John B raises the jagged, bloody edge of the bottle right up to Luke’s face. “Let. Go.” he chokes.

It’s enough to make Luke loosen his grip, allowing John B to breathe, but the man doesn’t get off of him just yet. John B moves the bottle to the side of Luke’s neck, where he knows an artery sits. Luke inhales sharply, sensing danger. “I’ll gladly return the favor.” John B says. Some of the blood is now dripping onto him. It only fuels him, and Luke must see that in his eyes, because he lets go of John B.

John B scrambles to his feet. He would love nothing more than to beat the man into a pulp, but the only thing that matters right now is getting out of here. Getting JJ out of here. Without looking back, John B sprints out of the now open front door, gets into the van, slams his door shut, and starts driving.

For a while, no one says anything. Pope’s in the back, with JJ. John B is too out of it to think about the speed limit.

“John B,” Pope says, “You need to calm down.”

“Fuck,” John B swears. It feels like it’s the only word in his vocabulary right now. Pope repeats his name. “Fuck!” John B shouts, hitting the steering wheel. It hurts, but not as much as his face does.

“John B,” Pope says a third time, firmer. “Pull over.”

John B doesn’t react. “Pull over,” Pope says again, “You can’t drive like this.” And then, when John B still doesn’t listen, Pope yells, which he never does. “Pull over, for fuck’s sake!”

John B hits the breaks and pulls over. He’s not even sure he was driving in the right direction. As long as they’re away from that _place_ , it’s fine. Pope slides the door open and walks around to the driver’s side of the car. John B rolls his window down. “Let’s switch. I’m driving,” Pope says.

John B’s heart sinks. The practical part was easy – go in, get JJ, keep Luke away, get out, drive. He hadn’t really thought ahead any further. JJ’s in the back of his van, and John B hasn’t even looked at him properly yet, but he knows it will probably be the worst that he’s ever seen him. John B’s got JJ’s blood on his own damn sweater. JJ won’t want to talk, JJ won’t want to be touched, JJ won’t want anything. John B doesn’t know what to _do_.

Pope leans in through the window. “We should probably get him to a hospital,” he says in a low voice.

JJ’s croaky response from the backseat is faint, but immediate. “No hospital.”

“But-“ Pope starts.

“No hospital,” John B echoes, opening the door so Pope can take his place behind the wheel. “Drive to The Chateau.”

“John B, he’s bleeding,” Pope insists.

“We’ll figure it out,” John B says, joining JJ in the back of the van. And then, as Pope starts driving, John B finally gets a good look at JJ. He has to scrape together every bit of self control he has left not to audibly gasp, because Jesus _Christ._ John B has gotten used to seeing JJ with black eyes, split lips and swelling cheeks a long time ago. But seeing harsh bruises around JJ’s neck from being choked, that’s new. The bloody gash on his bicep is new. The rip in his shirt, showing only a glimpse of the longer, deeper cut on JJ’s stomach, that’s new, too. JJ’s sitting there, numb, leaning his head back against the side of the van. His eyes are only half open.

“Hey,” John B says, “Stay awake, okay?” He’s too scared to touch JJ. “Don’t pass out on me.”

JJ’s line of sight is locked on John B’s face, but he’s not exactly making eye contact. Instead, his eyes are fixed on John B’s cheek. “He hurt you,” JJ says.

John B touches his fingers to the bruise. For the first time since he left the house, his brain registers the pain in his side, courtesy of Luke’s knee. It dawns on him that JJ is more angry about Luke hurting John B than anything else, which is all kinds of fucked up.

“I’m okay,” John B says, “Don’t worry about it.”

“You shouldn’t have come,” JJ says, voice hoarse, “It would’ve blown over by tomorrow, anyway.”

John B never thought that emotions could physically hurt you, but everything that’s coming out of JJ’s mouth right now makes him ache like nothing he’s ever felt before. “I wasn’t going to leave you there,” John B insists.

“I’m not worth all this bullshit,” JJ says. There’s no trace of emotion in his voice. It’s a statement. A fact. John B doesn’t know if he wants to cry, scream, or tell Pope to turn around so he can give Luke what he deserves. None of those options would help JJ right now, though.

“Good thing that’s not up to you to decide,” John B says. _You’re worth everything_ , John B thinks as they pull up to the Chateau. “Can you walk?” he asks JJ, sliding the door open and getting out.

“His knee is fucked up,” Pope responds for him. They help JJ out of the van and both put an arm under his shoulders, so he can keep his weight off his left leg as they get inside. John B carefully lowers JJ down onto the pullout. For an unbearable moment, there’s only silence.

Pope’s the one to spur into action, grabbing damp cloths, some ice and the first aid kit, which John B has recently restocked with bandages for this exact reason. Pope goes to clean up the cut on JJ’s arm with one of the cloths, but John B catches his wrist. “Just, hold on,” he says, shifting his attention to JJ. The last thing John B wants is for more people to touch JJ without his consent. “This okay?” he asks.

Pope, as usual, is more focused on the practical than the emotional. “We don’t have time for this. It has to be clean so it doesn’t get infected,” he explains.

“I know,” says John B, “just-“

“I can do it,” JJ says quietly, taking the cloth from Pope.

“It’s best if you put pressure on it for a bit,” Pope instructs, “It’ll stop the bleeding.”

That’s the thing about Pope – he freaks out when he’s dragged into a situation, but once he’s past that point, he’s very methodical, focused on solving what can be solved. Assess the damage, stop the bleeding, clean the cut. John B is grateful that he’s here, still stunned by how royally fucked up all of this is.

JJ winces slightly when he presses the cloth over the cut. John B grabs an ice pack. “Can I?” he asks, gesturing at JJ’s knee. Without making eye contact, JJ nods, so John B carefully rolls up JJ’s pants to reveal the swollen joint, bruised from where Luke probably kicked it to tackle him, and places the ice on it. It earns him another wince from JJ. “Sorry,” John B says.

They sit like that for a while, until Pope dips out of the room to grab a towel from the bathroom so John B can tie it around JJ’s leg, securing the icepack in place. “Alright,” Pope says, “Let me see.”

JJ moves his hand away almost robotically, once again revealing the gash on his arm. It’s not bleeding anymore, but there’s some dried blood around it, still. John B focuses on JJ’s face while Pope cleans it up with another cloth. JJ seems far away, only flinching when Pope disinfects the cut, which John B knows must hurt a lot more than JJ’s reactions are letting on. He allows Pope to maneuver his arm so JJ’s elbow rests against Pope’s hip, giving him easier access to wrap a bandage around JJ’s arm.

“We have to look at the other one,” Pope says when he’s done.

John B knows that. He also knows it involves getting JJ out of his shirt. He stands in front of JJ, slowly grabbing the hem of his shirt, unspoken question in his eyes as he catches JJ’s eyes. JJ doesn’t say anything, just raises his arms and lets John B lift the bloodied garment off of him. For the second time that day, John B has to do everything in his willpower not to visibly or audibly react to the sight of JJ. His torso looks like some kind of nightmarish impressionist painting, with a brutal red line right down the middle.

Pope, again, keeps his head cool. “Lay back,” he says.

John B gets a pillow so JJ can be somewhat comfortable. “Do you think there’s glass in it?” John B asks, sitting next to JJ.

JJ shakes his head. “Was already broken,” he replies, referring to the bottle.

“Alright, well, this is gonna hurt,” Pope says, placing another cloth over the wound and pressing down. JJ groans as Pope slowly puts his weight on it. Pope shifts his attention to John B while they wait for the bleeding to stop. “What about you?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” John B responds, mostly for JJ’s sake. Pope gives him a look. “Uh, he got a good knee in my ribs, that’s all.”

“Let’s see, come on,” Pope says. John B lifts up his shirt, revealing his own collection of bruises. He twists his body so JJ can’t see, but the move sends pain shooting through his ribcage and he hisses.

“Probably cracked a rib if it hurts that much,” Pope says, “Best if you don’t surf until that feels better. Put some ice on it.”

“Alright, doc,” John B obeys, grabbing a bag of peas from the freezer and shoving it under his shirt.

A few minutes later, Pope lifts the cloth from JJ’s abdomen, cleans away as much blood as he can and assesses the damage. “Guys, this needs stitches,” he says, “We have to go to the hospital.”

John B can feel JJ’s panic immediately. “No hospital,” JJ says again, frantic.

“JJ,” Pope insists.

“Look,” John B says, “Even if that was an option, I don’t think any of us have the insurance to cover that.”

“Nope,”, JJ says, “And it’s not an option.”

“Then what?” Pope asks.

“Can you do it?” John B wonders.

Pope’s eyes widen in surprise at the question, but he doesn’t say yes or no. “What?”

“Can you?” John B asks.

Pope mulls that over for a second. “Theoretically, yes,” he says, sounding hesitant.

“Well, no time like the present to test that theory,” John B says.

“You’re insane,” Pope responds, “Like actually insane.”

John B disregards that statement. “What do you need?”

Pope sighs, and John B knows he’s admitting defeat. “Needle, thread, tweezers, vodka, lighter.”

“You got it,” John B says, making a tour around the house to collect the supplies for him.

Pope grabs the vodka first, drenching the cloth with it. “It has to be as clean as possible,” Pope explains as he once again places the cloth over JJ’s cut.

JJ tenses up immediately and grunts, a guttural sound. “Jesus, Pope,” he exclaims, “You trying to kill me?” It’s the first JJ-like thing he’s said.

“Quite the opposite,” Pope says.

“Fuck, dude,” says JJ.

Pope looks a bit panicked as he prepares the needle, sterilizing it with alcohol and the lighter. “Hey,” John B says, getting Pope’s attention, “You got this.”

Pope nods and gets ready to suture the wound. “You ready?” he asks. JJ nods.

“Just, don’t look,” John B says, taking JJ’s hands in his for support.

It’s… not pleasant. JJ hisses and groans through the whole thing, eyes squeezed shut in pain, death grip on John B’s hands as Pope works as quickly as he can.

An eternity later, Pope straightens up. “All done,” he says, “And normally this would go without saying, but you’re JJ, so. No surfing until that’s healed. Same thing goes for the knee.”

JJ rubs his hands over his face. “Okay,” he says, “Thanks, I guess.”

“Yeah, you got it, man,” Pope says, “You should get some rest.”

JJ sits up slowly with a wince and looks at John B. “Shirt?” he asks.

John B runs to his room to grab a clean shirt for JJ. When he returns, Pope is gone. “He’s outside,” JJ explains, “Think I broke him.”

“You didn’t break him,” John B insists, “He’s just being Pope.” He holds up the shirt. “Need a hand?”

“I can dress myself.”

“You just got stitches. Without an anesthetic, I might add.”

“Just give me the shirt, John B.”

John B watches JJ pull the shirt on slowly, pain quite evident on his face, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. “Can I pass out on you now?” JJ asks.

“Yeah, ‘course,” John B responds, “I’ll be here when you wake up. Can I bum a cigarette?”

“Looks like I broke you too,” JJ mutters, reaching into his back pocket and tossing an half-empty pack of cigarettes John B’s way.

“You didn’t break me.”

“Right,” JJ says sarcastically, “Because you don’t exclusively smoke when you’re drunk or when I specifically offer you a cigarette.”

“Not everything is your fault, JJ,” John B insists.

JJ lies down and gets comfortable on the couch, pulling the blanket over his bruised body. “Yeah, you say that,” he says with his back turned to John B.

John B sighs. There’s no use in carrying on this conversation, so he heads outside to let JJ rest. Pope is sitting on the front porch, staring off. John B leans against the railing, lights up and offers the pack to Pope, who declines.

“So,” Pope says.

“So,” John B echoes, stretching out the word as he exhales.

“How long?” Pope asks.

“How long have I known or how long has this been going on?”

“Well, both,” Pope replies.

“I found out a couple weeks ago,” John B clarifies, “But at least a few months.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” John B says, “First time I’ve seen him this bad though. The cuts… that’s new.”

“It’s going to scar,” Pope says.

John B sighs. “I know. You were great in there, though. Thanks, man. I really needed you.”

“I’d like to go on record right now and say that I’m not going to be stitching people up every other week,” Pope says, “That was insanely irresponsible.”

“Let’s hope you won’t have to.”

“We have to tell someone.”

John B shakes his head. “He doesn’t want to.”

“So?” Pope says, disbelief in his voice, “This isn’t right.”

“You think I don’t know that?” John B says, “He wants to end up in foster care just about as much as I do, which is not at all.”

“Still-“

“No,” John B interrupts, “It’s his choice, Pope. Don’t take that away from him.”

Pope sighs. “I hate this,” he says.

“I know,” John B says, “But it is what it is. He’s probably going to be pissed that I let you find out. So no telling Kie, either.”

The look on Pope’s face tells John B that he doesn’t like the idea of keeping this from Kiara, but he doesn’t protest. John B takes a last drag of his cigarette and puts it out. “You should go home. I got this.”

“You sure?”

John B nods. “Yeah. Not my first rodeo.”

“Alright,” Pope sighs, getting up.

John B gratefully accepts his hug. “Thanks, man,” he says into Pope’s shoulder.

“You got it,” Pope says.

JJ’s out like a light when John B gets back inside. His relaxed, sleeping features are a stark contrast with his bruised face. John B’s heart aches on the realization that he’s irreversibly _gone_ for this boy. There’s no one else. To have an excuse to stay close, John B gets his backpack and starts doing homework at the kitchen table, or at least pretends to.

A little over an hour later, while John B’s tapping through Kie’s guitar cover of Stir It Up on her Instagram story, JJ stirs. John B is quick to get up, grabbing a glass of water and sitting down next to him.

Sitting up, JJ accepts the water and takes a sip. “Got anything stronger?” he croaks.

“Getting drunk doesn’t seem like the greatest idea right now,” says John B.

“Why not?” JJ asks, “Vodka is a lot more fun when you drink it instead of pouring it into an open wound.”

John B grimaces. “Necessary evil. Also, that was Pope so don’t be pissy.”

“Where’s Dr. Heyward, anyway?”

“Sent him home,” John B responds, “How are you feeling?”

“Phenomenal,” JJ deadpans.

“JJ.”

JJ looks down. “What do you want me to say?”

“Just be real with me,” John B pleads.

“I’m always real with you,” JJ says.

“No,” John B insists, “You wrap everything in a layer of sarcasm and wit so you don’t actually have to talk about anything.”

“Way to lift my spirits, John B,” JJ says, “This is really making me feel better.”

John B rubs a hand over his face in frustration. “I’m trying to talk to you, here.”

JJ shrugs. “Nothing to talk about.”

“I think there’s plenty to talk about,” John B counters. “What happened?”

“Same shit as always,” JJ responds, playing with the frayed edge of the blanket between his fingers. “He was drunk, I was in the way.”

John B has trouble believing it was that simple. Not with the state JJ is in. If JJ had fought back, maybe John B would accept that response, but Luke didn’t have a scratch on him. “Seems like a little more than that,” he says.

JJ looks away. “I don’t know what you mean,” he mumbles.

“I think you do,” John B insists softly. “JJ, he came at you with a broken bottle. You can barely _walk_ on that leg.”

“I know, okay?” JJ says, suddenly loud. His voice trembles. There are tears in his eyes. “I don’t need a play-by-play from you. It’s burned into my memory, trust me.”

Carefully, John B places his hand on JJ’s good knee. “JJ, just talk to me, please,” he says.

JJ chews on the inside of his cheek. John B can almost hear him thinking. He waits.

“It’s been three years,” JJ finally says.

John B frowns, not understanding.

“Uh, since she left,” JJ clarifies.

John B’s heart sinks. JJ’s mom. She split right before the holidays. He should’ve known.

“Shit, JJ, I’m sorry.”

JJ sniffs. “It’s fine, y’know,” he says. “So yeah, it’s one of those days that dad just uh, gets like that. I mean, I could’ve seen it coming, so it’s on me, really. Should’ve just dipped, made myself scarce.”

Anger flares up in John B’s chest. “You – no,” he stutters, “It’s not your fault he’s like this.”

“It’s my fault she left, so.” It’s quiet, but unmistakable. John B sees red, realizing that Luke’s been instilling that idea into JJ’s head for _years._

“JJ, that’s not on you,” John B says, “You were _thirteen_.”

“I was trouble,” JJ says, “Still am.”

Carefully, so he doesn’t hurt him, John B places his hands on either side of JJ’s face, locking eyes with him. “I need you to hear this, okay?” he says. “None of this is your fault. Not your mom, not your dad, none of it. Okay?”

“Just stop, please,” JJ begs. John B has never seen him so utterly small and defeated.

“It’s not your fault,” John B insists, and then he sees JJ try, and fail, to hold back tears. “Hey,” John B says, pulling him close, “I got you. It’s okay.”

JJ’s body trembles in his arms like a leaf as he sobs into John B’s shoulder. For a while, there’s nothing to say, so John B just holds him through it. He puts one hand in JJ’s hair, afraid to touch JJ’s wrecked body anywhere else.

Time passes. After a while, JJ is limp against John B’s body, only the sound of his occasional sniffles filling the room. John B kisses the side of his head before breaking their embrace. If it’s weird, JJ doesn’t say anything about it. With eyes puffy and red from crying and a beat up face, JJ looks unbelievably vulnerable. John B knows he has to thread very, very carefully right now.

“Listen, um”, John B mutters, “I forgot it was today. I should’ve known.”

JJ makes a dismissive gesture. “Forget about it, it’s fine.”

John B shakes his head. “It’s not. You remembered about my dad, so. I’m sorry, man.”

“Just stop with the guilty bullshit, alright?” JJ says, “I said it’s fine.”

John B starts to feel frustrated, but he keeps that feeling off of his face, and out of his voice. _Thread carefully._ “You deserve better than this, JJ. From me, from your dad. You know that, right?” John B needs him to know that.

“This a therapy session, now?” JJ asks, avoiding the question.

“No, I just…” John B pauses. “I wanna be there for you like you’re there for me. And I wasn’t today, and I’m sorry.”

“Jesus Christ,” JJ exclaims, clearly annoyed. “Can you stop being emotional? I’m good, we’re good, it’s all good. Fucking seriously.”

“JJ, I-“

“No,” JJ interrupts, angry, “You- oh my god, you could have had a perfectly good day if you’d just gone out surfing with Pope. Didn’t it occur to you that maybe there was a reason I texted Pope and not you?”

“Yeah,” John B replies, “Because you knew I’d know.”

“Exactly,” JJ confirms, “So why on God’s green fucking earth did you come?”

“What do you mean?” John B asks, confused.

“I mean, why did you come, when you could’ve just gone surfing, saved yourself all this trouble?” JJ says, scooting back a little to put some distance between them.

John B’s entire _body_ aches when that statement hits. “ _Trouble?_ ” he echoes incredulously.

“Yeah, you know,” JJ says, “Like, getting kneed in the ribs by my father, or I don’t know, convincing Pope to perform minor surgery on me. That kind of _trouble_.”

John B takes a second before he responds. “Okay. This,” he says, gesturing between them, “ _us_ , it’s not conditional, you got that?”

JJ scoffs, looking away. “You still got my cigarettes?”

John B tosses him the pack so JJ can light up. “I’m being serious.”

“Yeah, and it’s annoying,” JJ mumbles.

“Well, suck it up,” John B says, “You really think I would have left you there?”

“No, you _should_ have,” JJ says, “What’s the point?”

“The _point?”_ John B repeats, “The point is you’re safe now.”

“The bad part was over anyway. I was fine.”

“Debatable,” John B says.

“Why do you care?”

The question renders John B at a loss for words. “What do you mean, why?” he asks.

“I mean,” JJ says, “Why do you care?”

“I – because you’re my best friend,” John B says, “Because I love you. What the fuck?”

“Why?” JJ asks.

“What?”

“You heard me,” says JJ.

In that moment, a few things dawn on John B. One, JJ thinks you need to give people enough of a reason to love you. Two, JJ probably thinks that that’s why his mom left, and why his dad is the way he is – because he hasn’t given them that reason. Three, JJ genuinely believes he shouldn’t be a priority in John B’s life. So much so that he tried to let John B have a fun day at the beach with Pope while he lay in bed bleeding.

John B can feel the burn of tears coming up, but he swallows them back. “Listen, JJ,” he says, softly, with as much patience as he can muster, “I could start listing things I like about you, like how you’re always one step ahead of me, or that you’re a good surfer, or that you always know how to lighten the mood, and we’d probably still be here tomorrow,” (JJ scoffs again), “But there’s no one reason I care about you. I just do. Not a single cell in my body even considered leaving you there.”

JJ takes another drag of his cigarette, looking uneasy, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I know you don’t want to hear this right now,” John B says, “But you’re my best friend, and I love you, and that’s unconditional. I came today because I needed you to be safe. I need you around to survive all of this bullshit. It’s a bit selfish, really.”

“It’s not. I need you, too,” JJ says, barely audible.

“Then let me take care of you sometimes, man,” John B says.

“Okay, Jesus,” JJ sighs, “Can we stop this now?”

John B nods. “Yeah, okay. You hungry?”

“Starving.”

John B whips them up a few sandwiches with what he has in the fridge, while JJ puts a fresh icepack on his knee and finds them a movie to watch – or well, illegally stream – on John B’s laptop. JJ likes old horror movies, because he’s a weirdo. They make John B kind of squeamish, but he’ll do just about anything that makes JJ feel better right now. “Your wifi is shit,” JJ comments.

John B hands him a plate. “Good wifi is only for paying customers.”

“Pay?” JJ asks, “I’m poor, sir.”

“A blowjob also works,” John B says before he can catch himself.

JJ smirks. It looks kind of wonky on his bruised face. “Whip it out then, big boy.”

John B shoves his good leg. “Gross. What are we watching?”

“The Prowler,” JJ responds, “Classic.”

“If you say so,” John B says, getting comfortable.

JJ seems to hesitate for a moment. John B raises his eyebrows, throwing JJ a questioning look. “You good?”

Without saying anything, JJ sits back so that his body is half-leaning against John B’s chest, the same way they were sitting when they shared a blunt on the porch, except the roles are reversed. JJ pulls a blanket over their legs, places the laptop so they can both see, and hits play. This is JJ: he has his guard up almost all of the time, but John B got real with him and told JJ to let John B take care of him, so now he’s keeping his word. John B puts one hand in JJ’s hair and eats his sandwich with the other, preferring to finish it before the movie gets gory.

JJ relaxes against him, and John B’s thoughts start to drift. _I wish it could be like this all the time,_ he thinks. John B wonders what would happen if, instead of playing with JJ’s hair, he let his hand drift under JJ’s sweater and rested it on the warm skin there. He thinks maybe JJ would let him right now. But it wouldn’t be fair to take advantage of JJ’s vulnerable state, not when he doesn’t know what their intimacy means to John B. Maybe he should tell JJ.

_What would I even say?_

John B doesn’t know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inside of my brain for weeks and it was a real challenge to write. I needed it to be perfect, I don't know if it is, but this is the best I can do. This took soooo many sittings, so any and all feedback is appreciated. Leave a comment or shoot me an ask on Tumblr if you like!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I apologize for the long wait!!! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one and you have/had a lovely day.
> 
> Your comments seriously mean the world to me, I love seeing the email notifications come in while I'm working, makes my day!

As it turns out, John B doesn’t need to do any convincing or bargaining to get JJ to stay for the holidays. He just asks, and JJ says “Okay,” and goes back to his phone. They pick a time when JJ is fairly certain his dad won’t be home and take the drive to go get some of his stuff. JJ insists on going in alone, so John B is forced to watch him limp inside. He chews the inside of his cheek raw for 10 minutes before JJ reemerges, bags in hand. John B drives him to The Boneyard after, and they have a couple of beers on the beach, just the two of them.

On Monday, John B helps JJ wash his hair. JJ can’t stand up in the shower because of his knee, but a bath isn’t an option either because of the stitches, according to a text from Pope. JJ insists he can sort himself out by sitting on the edge of the tub, so John B leaves him to it, but after about 10 minutes, JJ comes out of the bathroom in only his boxers and says “I can’t do my hair”, which is JJ speak for “Please help me”. It pains John B to realize that means JJ probably tried to do it himself, but it hurt too much to twist his body that way.

John B tries his best to be gentle, massaging his fingers into JJ’s scalp a bit when he shampoos his hair. JJ obediently bends his head forward so John B can rinse. It’s all oddly intimate. He grabs a towel and runs it over JJ’s hair lightly, drying it enough so it won’t drip. It leaves JJ’s dirty blonde hair wonderfully messy. Before he can catch himself, John B touches his fingers to the marks on the side of JJ’s neck. The featherlight gesture starkly contrasts the action that caused the abrasions. 

When he realizes what he’s doing, John B expects some kind of reaction of protest from JJ, but it doesn’t come. On the contrary - JJ seems calm, his pulse steady underneath the tips of John B’s fingers. JJ looks up at him with something in his eyes that looks like curiosity. John B’s body must be disconnected from his brain, because he definitely doesn’t mean to let his hand drift a bit lower until his fingers brush the edges of the bandage around JJ’s bicep, but it happens anyway. Still, JJ lets him.

It dawns on John B that JJ probably has not been touched in a non-violent way in a very, very long time. Maybe that’s why JJ is letting this happen. John B is overcome with the urge to show JJ that this is possible, too, that his body is more than a way to hurt him, and more than a weapon to hurt others.

“Say when,” John B says softly, earning a questioning frown from JJ. “When to stop,” John B clarifies. Slowly, he straddles the edge of the tub so he’s facing JJ’s still mostly naked body. And then, he carefully rests one hand on JJ’s swollen knee, covering the angry, deep purple marks there with his palm. Still cautious in his movements, John B raises his other hand to JJ’s torso, gently tracing a collection of bruises from his collarbone to his ribs. John B can almost taste how delicate this moment is, but then, JJ closes his eyes.

John B repeats his movements, maneuvering his hand all over JJ’s torso and arms, staying away only from the stitched up gash on his abdomen. He feels encouraged by JJ’s complete calmness, stillness even, no trace of tension or duress. John B’s hand moves around JJ’s body as though the tenderness in his motions can somehow undo the violence that it’s been submitted to, as though the wounds and bruises will heal if he just focuses hard enough, loves JJ enough.

Reality is rarely what you want it to be, John B knows. Time passes in his bathroom, and still the surface of JJ’s skin remains the same demonstration of cruelty it was before. Regardless, it feels like something changes. Like maybe JJ feels safe and relaxed for one short moment. Like he doesn’t have to be on alert all the time, like his first reflex doesn’t always have to be  _ duck, run if you can, cover your face.  _

John B shifts his hand back to its original position over the choking bruises on JJ’s neck. From there, he moves up towards JJ’s face, the swelling on his cheek, the blue around his eyes. Down the bridge of his nose, and then, John B very carefully touches JJ’s split lip.

Another moment passes, and then JJ opens his eyes and grabs John B’s wrist, gently pulling his hand away. “Stop,” he says. He’s not angry, just done with whatever this was.

John B respects that and moves away a bit. “Okay,” he says.

Just like that, the moment is over. John B leaves JJ to get dressed. A few minutes later, JJ emerges from the bathroom in a hoodie and sweatpants, plops down on the couch, cracks open a window and lights up. John B joins him and takes the pack of cigarettes from JJ’s lap, but JJ grabs it out of his hands.

“Nope,” JJ says, “You smoke too much.”

“Uh,” John B says, disbelief in his voice, “You smoke way more than I do, asshole.”

JJ exhales. “Yes, but you’re the one that’s getting out of here, golden boy.”

John B scoffs. “Right. Besides, I like it here,” he says, pulling the lit cigarette from between JJ’s lips and taking a drag.

“Yeah,” JJ says, taking it back, “Pogue life. So glamorous.”

John B shrugs. “As long as I can surf and you’re here, I’m good.”

“Ugh, ew,” is JJ’s only comment.

John B doesn’t speak again until the cigarette has been reduced to a stub. “Thursday is Christmas,” he says.

“Brilliantly observed,” JJ responds.

“You got somewhere to be?” John B asks.

“Obviously not,” JJ says, “Why?”

John B looks away, suddenly on edge. “We could go to the store, get something to cook. Have an actual Christmas.”

JJ seems to weigh that over.

“We could steal a tree from some Kook’s front yard,” John B suggests, “No one needs that many Christmas trees, anyway.”

“You’ll be doing the heavy lifting on that one, chief,” JJ says, grinning.

“Worth it,” John B says.

“We’re stealing from Topper.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” John B agrees.

And so on Wednesday morning, they go grocery shopping together, like some old married couple. Except JJ sits in the shopping cart, since he’s not very mobile right now, which gets them a few looks, but no one kicks them out. JJ’s charming smile probably has something to do with it. John B’s a sucker for it too. John B didn’t really have a plan, but it seems that JJ does, giving John B directions around the store, grabbing things from the shelves as they go. John B shoots him a look, and JJ makes a dismissive gesture. “You pick up a couple of things as a busboy,” he explains.

Apparently that’s true, since on Christmas Day, JJ takes the lead, hobbling around John B’s kitchen like he lives there. John B leaves him to it. It’s kind of nice to watch JJ do something that he cares about - there’s the same focus he has in his eyes when he’s about to start paddling to catch a wave. The Christmas tree they robbed out of Topper’s front yard (which earned John B a grinned “That’s my boy” from JJ) sits in the corner, lit up by cheap Christmas lights that JJ  _ borrowed _ from the store.

As with most things, JJ’s eyeballing this. Even if JJ was the kind of person to follow things like directions or recipes, he probably wouldn’t. The fancy term is dyslexia, but JJ once described it as  _ the letters just kind of move around everywhere and it’s exhausting _ , and that’s all he had to say about it. But JJ is good at eyeballing things, and using his hands, or his wit. All of these odd pieces of JJ kind of fit together perfectly. John B wishes it could be like this all the time, the two of them together during winter break, everyone leaving them the fuck alone, smoking and drinking and stealing when they want to. John B doesn’t see the goddamn point in finishing high school, since his future is sure as shit not an academic one. But he can’t drop out. If he does, Cheryl will definitely catch on and have him in foster care in no time. Regardless, reality is out there, breathing down John B’s neck. In a few weeks, touching JJ’s skin in the Chateau’s bathroom will be a distant memory, something John B can think of when he can’t help himself.

But for now at least, this warped version of reality goes on a little longer, with JJ serving the best Christmas dinner John B’s probably ever had.

“Thanks, JJ,” John B says. “I mean it.”

It’s probably absurd. The two of them sitting there on Christmas, in some imitation of a family event, because that’s what they are. Family. That’s why it’s JJ who shows up on John B’s porch on the day his dad’s been missing for three months. Because he understands, in a way that Pope and Kie don’t, that John B is alone in the world. Because he is, too.

“I’ll send you the check later,” JJ says, because he fucking hates when people thank him.

“That’s cute,” John B says, “Since I paid for the groceries.”

JJ burps. Table manners are not part of an upbringing on The Cut. “Well, my artistry created value.”

“Artistry,” John B echoes.

“Is this not the most sublime meal you’ve ever had?” JJ asks.

“I… will kill you,” John B says, “Like, cold-blooded murder. Right now.”

JJ laughs, all sharp, crooked teeth. “You’re so easy to rile up, man.”

John B does his part by cleaning up and doing the dishes while JJ relaxes on the couch. It all feels so painly comfortable, it makes John B want to say “Just stay here, live here”, but he knows by now that it’s not that simple. So he shuts up, does the dishes, grabs an ice pack from the freezer and sits down on the couch, maneuvering JJ’s leg onto his lap and placing the ice pack on his knee. Kie texts the group chat a few minutes later.

_ Merry Christmas boys!!!! My gift to you: we’re crashing a Kook party on New Year’s Eve. Text u the deets later xx _

John B sees JJ grinning at his phone before his response appears on John B’s screen.  _ ill settle for nudes _

“You’re disgusting,” John B says, throwing a pillow at JJ’s face, “One day she’s gonna just bail.”

“Whatever, she’s fine,” JJ says, still smiling, “Can’t wait to drink fancy Kook booze.”

“Do you think Topper knows we burgled him?” John B asks.

“Probably,” says JJ.

John B smiles. “Should be fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point I feel like I'm just torturing you guys


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope this one was worth the wait. This chapter is one of the earliest things I came up with for this fic and it has been in my brain for months, and I tried my very best to get it on paper in the best way I could!
> 
> Please enjoy <3

A week later, JJ is walking comfortably again. The stitches are out now, too, leaving the wound to heal on its own. As more and more time inserts itself between them and the day this all happened, JJ accepts less care from John B, insisting he can refresh bandages by himself and grabbing ice packs from the freezer before John B can. Above anything else, John B wants to respect the unspoken boundaries JJ draws, but he aches with the realization that their physical closeness seems to require one of them being in immediate distress, or pain. Or high.

JJ does some odd jobs around the house. John B doesn’t ask him to, but he knows JJ is repaying a debt he thinks he has. JJ hates owing people. John B could tell him this isn’t some quid-pro-quo exchange, but he’s too exhausted to try to have that conversation again so he lets JJ be, brings him a beer while he works on the van’s engine. He hands JJ the tools he needs to have an excuse to stay close for a bit. JJ looks good like this, focusing on something he’s good at, sleeves rolled up, grease on his cheek over a fading bruise. John B is probably an asshole for stealing these little moments without telling JJ what’s really on his mind, but he knows he’s on borrowed time. He can  _ feel _ this version of them, whatever it is, slipping out of his grasp. It’ll be gone in the new year, when school starts again and JJ goes back to his dad’s. John B will probably get his last fix tonight at the party, when they’re drunk and JJ gets touchy like he always does.

The loud  _ bang _ of JJ dropping the hood snaps John B out of his thoughts. Predictably, JJ leans back against the front of the van and lights up. John B joins him.

“How’re you feeling?” John B asks.

JJ exhales and looks off into the distance. “Better,” he says, “I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.”

“That’s not-”, John B starts, but he knows it’s futile. “You can stay,” he says instead.

“Nah, I’m good,” JJ says. A few seconds pass in silence. “So yeah, thanks, I guess.”

“Yeah, ‘course, JJ,” John B responds. He wishes there was a way to make it clear to JJ that he doesn’t have to thank John B for any of this. John B just wanted him safe. He’d have paid just about any price for that.

JJ straightens up and puts out his cigarette under his boot. “Alright,” he says, “I’m gonna shower, make myself pretty for all those Kooks.”

“Don’t use all the hot water again,” John B jokes as he watches JJ walk away.

JJ turns around with a grin. “See, that’s why I’m getting out of your hair,” he says, “Or you can join me to save water, whatever you want, chief.”

John B wants to keep it lighthearted. “Hope you slip!” he yells as JJ enters the house.

To avoid any drunk driving, Kie’s invited them to hers before the party so everyone can crash there. They pick up Pope on the way to her house. John B can almost taste the moment things change again. Any trace of the unique closeness between him and JJ evaporates the second Pope enters the van and starts joking around with JJ.  _ It’s better this way _ , John B tries to convince himself.

“How’d you convince your parents to even let us set foot in this house?” JJ says as soon as Kie lets them in, foregoing a greeting, but quickly pulling her against his side in a half-hug.

“They’re at friends’ so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t break anything or leave a weed smell everywhere,” Kie responds, “What happened to your face?”

Pope gets that constipated look on his face that shows up whenever he has to keep a secret. Luckily, Kie’s still looking at JJ, putting a hand on his cheek and tugging him down to her eye level to study his face up close. She looks mad. It’s funny how her love for JJ usually manifests itself in anger.

“If you wanna make out just say that,” JJ says. It has the exact effect he intended: Kie pushes him away and calls him disgusting.

“This place smells expensive,” JJ says as they take their stuff up to the guest room.

“Be nice to Kie,” John B says.

“I was joking, old man,” JJ responds.

“She cares about you.”

JJ looks at John B, eyes calculating. “You’re not telling her,” he says.

“I wasn’t - Jesus, okay,” John B says, pushing his frustration down. “Let’s just go get drunk on booze that’s probably worth more than all of our belongings combined.”

Just like that, JJ’s cautious hostility vanishes and he smiles. “Sounds like my kinda party.”

After Pope gives Kie an awkward compliment on how lovely she looks (which, she does), they’re on their way. Apparently the party is at Kelce’s this year.

“This is a royally bad idea,” Pope says when they walk up to the massive house.

The look on Kelce’s face just about confirms that when he opens the door. “The fuck are you guys doing here? Get lost on your way to the soup kitchen?”

Kie makes a gesture to stop JJ from saying whatever he was going to say. “You said I could bring friends,” she says with a smile, “These are my friends.”

John B and JJ crowd into the doorway so that Kelce has no choice but to let them in. JJ claps Kelce on the shoulder. “Think you and your little friends can drink half our kegs at the Boneyard without us returning the favor? Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it, bud,” he says over the loud music.

It earns him a laugh from Kie, who guides them through the crowd to locate the booze and starts mixing them all drinks. The loud “salud” as they push their red cups together and down their first drink draws the attention of one startled Sarah Cameron somewhere across the room, who kind of looks like maybe she thinks she’s hallucinating. Kiara, already pouring out their second drink, notices, says “Come on!” and pulls John B over to where everyone is dancing.

And John B has to admit, dancing and getting drunk is just a bit better when the booze is this good and free, certainly when your mere presence gets you a few dirty looks across the room - some of them angry, some of them curious. See, John B does know he’s good looking, and he also knows there’s a certain brand of rich girl that’s attracted to him just because he’s a Pogue and they think he’s a bad boy and it would piss off their dad, or whatever. It’s fun, knowing half the guys in the room are part of Rafe and Topper’s crew and probably pissed that John B is even here, while some of the girls around them might let him flirt with them if they’re drunk enough.

For now, though, John B sticks with his friends. They get a nice buzz going. For the first time in a while, John B feels carefree. Kiara and him have always been the dancers of the group, and just like always, she crowds into his space and they move together, laugh together. Pope, who probably found courage halfway through his third drink, somehow strikes up a conversation with a girl. John B isn’t sure what time it is - must be before midnight, because no one has started countdown yet, but after a while JJ gestures that he’s going outside for a smoke. John B decides to take a break from dancing as well, grabbing a beer and sitting down on the massive, ornate staircase. Kie joins him soon after.

“You good?” she asks, taking a sip from his beer.

“Yeah, ‘course,” John B says, smiling.

“Are you gonna tell me what happened to JJ?”

John B sighs, reluctant to get into this when he’s drunk and having a good time. “You’re acting like this isn’t a semi-regular thing, Kie.”

“Listen,” Kie says, “I know you guys think you’re being slick, but you’re all being like, super weird.”

“Well,” says John B, “Pope’s always weird, so there’s that.”

“John B.” Kie insists.

“Kie, if you want to know, you’re gonna have to talk to him,” John B says, “You can’t guilt me into talking to you just because JJ is the way he is.”

Kie’s features become softer. “Sorry,” she says, “I just want you to know you can talk to me.”

John B mulls that over. “I’m just… worried about him. You know?”

Kie smiles. “I had this exact conversation with him that night you were in the bell tower.”

“Speak of the devil,” John B says, spotting JJ re-entering the house. Before JJ can join his friends though, Rafe suddenly appears, blocking JJ’s path. John B is quick on his feet, knowing that whatever’s about to happen, it probably won’t be anything good.

“Nice eyeshadow you got there, JJ,” Rafe says, gesturing at his own face, mocking JJ’s bruises. By the time John B has joined them, Kelce and Topper have appeared at Rafe’s side, because of course they have. Like clockwork, Kie and Sarah show up as well, ever the peacekeepers. 

“You think so?” JJ says with ease, “Borrowed it from your mom last night.”

Rafe smiles, wicked. It can get vile pretty quickly between all of them, but Rafe and JJ have always been the most volatile combination. “Yeah? Where’s yours?” Rafe asks.

John B senses the shift in JJ, who takes a first step closer. John B grabs his arm, ready to hold him back. “JJ, come on,” he says. Getting into a fight in Figure Eight only has one possible outcome: a night in a cell.

Rafe is undeterred. “I see your boyfriend’s here to finish your fights again,” he says, which is apparently an insult in his book.

John B can feel the tension in JJ’s arm as his hand turns into a fist. “Pretty strong coming from you, considering you brought Bubbles and Buttercup over here.” JJ says, referring to Rafe’s sidekicks.

Topper’s the one to take a threatening step closer this time. “You guys wanna go?” he asks, “This is our party. You’re not winning this one, but if you feel like getting your asses kicked, I’m not going to deprive you of that privilege.”

John B sees Sarah roll her eyes. “Guys, come on,” she says, tugging on Topper’s arm, “This is ridiculous.”

“Oh, shut  _ up _ ,” Kie spits at her.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Sarah asks, “You’re the one who brought your guard dogs to our party.”

“Funny you’re acting like a stuck up bitch when you happily came to our kegger last month, uninvited,” Kie responds, “Only on your terms, right? Pathetic.”

Rafe gets up in Kiara’s face this time. “Pathetic is being so desperate to fit in that you’re slumming it with Pogues.”

JJ will take just about anything a Kook throws at his head, but he always draws the line at Kie. Always. Rafe has barely finished his sentence when JJ surges forward and shoves Rafe. “You stay the fuck away from her, man,” JJ says.

John B can see Rafe is fully intending on turning this into a fight, and then, the new year saves them. Somewhere in the massive living room, people start exclaiming numbers, marking the start of a countdown. Kelce, being the host of the party, is the first to leave, and Sarah succeeds at tugging Topper away as well. Rafe, now outnumbered, follows them, but not before saying this isn’t over.

“Yeah, we should go,” Kie says, “I’ll get Pope.”

JJ quickly grabs a couple of bottles of booze before they duck out the door. The countdown reaches its end as JJ and John B cross the front lawn of Kelce’s ridiculously large house. 

JJ smiles. “Happy New Year, man,” he says, opening his arms, a bottle of alcohol in each hand.

“Happy New Year,” John B echoes, accepting the hug. He laughs as they break the embrace. “That was fucking insane.”

John B hears Kie’s laughter as she comes running across the lawn, dragging Pope behind her. “What the fuck did you guys do?” Pope asks as they all reunite.

“Just gave Rafe his midnight kiss, is all,” JJ responds, “Speaking of. You better have kissed that girl.”

“No,” Pope says, still looking a little startled, “Kie yanked me out of there before I got the chance.”

“Yeah,  _ that _ was the reason,” Kie laughs, “Come on, let’s get out of here before we get lynched.”

They stumble back to Kiara’s house while fireworks light up the night sky. John B has to admit, money buys you some damn good fireworks.

“Boys,” Kie says when they get back, always giggly when she’s drunk, “The night is young.”

And so the party continues in Kie’s living room with stolen booze and one of her playlists. John B can’t remember the last time the four of them had a night like this - drunk, stupid, happy. The almost-fight with Rafe has only lifted their spirits even more. In his inebriated state, JJ gets into John B’s personal space much more than he has since his bruises started healing, just as John B expected. John B selfishly lets it happen - an arm around his shoulder, a joke whispered right into his ear, JJ lying down and resting his head in John B’s lap when John B sits down on the couch for a breather. They watch Kie attempt to teach Pope how to waltz from that spot. John B is distracted and drunk enough that his hand ends up in JJ’s hair.

Panicked, John B looks down, but JJ remains relaxed and focused on Pope’s two left feet. Kie’s laugh bounces through the room as John B’s eyes drift to JJ’s body, sprawled on the rather fancy couch. His eyes take a second to connect to his brain because he’s drunk, but then it dawns on John B that JJ’s shirt has ridden up a bit, the bottom of his healing cut very much visible between some splotches of purple and yellow on his skin. He doesn’t have time to find a subtle way to draw JJ’s attention to it, because Kie could notice it any second and John B knows JJ doesn’t want her to know about this, at least not right now. She’d probably start yelling at all of them, definitely after Pope would inevitably blurt out exactly  _ how _ they took care of JJ that day.

So, for lack of another way to fix this particular situation quickly, John B reaches over and grabs the hem of JJ’s shirt, tugging it down over his lower abdomen. A wave of tension jolts through JJ’s body when he feels it, JJ now looking up at John B, a look of high alert in his eyes. John B’s brain is pretty fuzzy because of the alcohol, but something in a corner of his mind still wants to scream at the fact that Luke has made it so that  _ this  _ is how JJ responds to unanticipated touch. John B sees JJ connect the dots and his gaze shifts to something softer, a silent “thanks”. John B lightly tugs on JJ’s hair, urging him to relax again.

It doesn’t take long for Pope and Kie to tire themselves out as well. Pope flops down on the loveseat while Kiara disappears to her bedroom and returns with her guitar, getting comfortable on the plushy carpet next to the ottoman. When she starts playing, singing softly, the atmosphere changes to something more peaceful. It’s the perfect end to a night like this. As it gets later, or earlier, John B looks around the room - Pope smiling gently, eyes drooping, Kie tugging on her guitar strings and singing to them, JJ relaxed in his lap - and feels indescribably grateful that these people are his friends.

After a few songs, Pope is completely passed out, and Kie’s not singing anymore, just absently playing melodies. John B feels JJ shift in his lap.

“Well,” JJ says, sitting up and stretching a bit, “I’m gonna call it a night.” He stands up, heading for the stairs, still a bit drunk. “Don’t wake me up unless there’s coffee.”

“I’ll be right up,” John B says.

Kie gently throws a blanket over Pope and John B helps her tidy up as quietly as possible. He can feel her eyes on him in the kitchen. When he locks eyes with her, she opens her mouth to say something.

“Can we not?” John B says before she gets the chance, “It’s late.”

Kie sighs. “Okay,” she says.

They walk upstairs together and John B gives her a bear hug before she retreats to her room. “Goodnight, John B,” she says, with that sad smile she does.

“Night, Kie,” he echoes.

He enters the guest bedroom and hears a tap running before JJ emerges from the ensuite bathroom (Kooks), holding a half empty glass of water that he puts down on the nightstand. Something about the atmosphere feels delicate and John B can’t think of anything to say right now, so he doesn’t speak and starts taking off his shoes instead. In the corner of his eye, he sees JJ starts to undress too.

John B straightens up just as JJ slips out of his jeans, and because he’s tired, and drunk, and worn down, John B simply watches him. JJ has been walking fine the past few days, but his knee still shows the evidence of the abuse it was submitted to. A scar from a skateboarding accident that happened when they were 10 runs right through the angry bruise. Distantly, John B realizes he knows nearly every inch of JJ’s body just from looking at it all these years. This past month especially, he’s learned details about it that he should have never committed to memory, but he couldn’t help himself. There’s a freckle that sits right above JJ’s waistband, John B knows now from tending to JJ’s wounds. Even in the dim room, John B could probably point out every single tan line on JJ’s body, faint as they are in winter, including the ones he has on his fingers, from his rings.

JJ’s shirt is next to come off, leaving him in only his boxers. John B expects JJ to get into bed right away, probably just as tired as he is, but instead, he sees JJ look down at himself, at his own body. JJ’s fingers drift to the slowly fading gash on his abdomen, poking at it a bit, perhaps inspecting its healing process. JJ apparently touches a particularly tender spot, because he winces, causing him to look up and catch John B staring.

John B feels akin to a deer in headlights. “Sorry,” he mumbles, averting his gaze. He’s quickly prompted to look up again when he hears JJ move slowly, coming towards John B. There’s something in JJ’s eyes that he cannot read. John B wishes he’d have just taken his clothes off as well instead of shamelessly staring at JJ. Something isn’t right.

“It’s okay,” JJ says when he comes to a stop right in front of John B. Kook booze must be damn strong, because John B still feels fuzzy. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. He doesn’t understand it when JJ reaches for John B’s hand, and he doesn’t understand it when JJ places that hand on his own chest. 

John B’s ability to speak finally catches up. “JJ, what are you-”

“It’s okay,” JJ says again, interrupting him. He takes John B’s other hand and moves it until it’s resting on his waist. John B is now touching JJ with both of his hands, but none of it has been a stolen touch in a vulnerable moment, the way it usually is. JJ put them there. John B doesn’t understand.

JJ must sense John B’s confusion, because he speaks again. “This is what you wanted, right?” JJ says, oddly methodically, “In the bathroom.”

_ The bathroom _ , John B’s mind echoes before it shows him images of putting his hands on JJ just like this, but also not at all like this. Something feels very off. He still doesn’t understand. Why does JJ want to do this right now?

“It’s okay,” JJ says a third time, “You can touch me. Do whatever you want.”

Something about that statement feels so wrong, coming out off JJ’s mouth like that, that John B feels physically ill for a moment.  _ Do whatever you want.  _ John B looks for something in JJ’s eyes that can help him comprehend what this is, but JJ’s gaze seems far away, even though they’re standing impossibly close to each other.

JJ, though, responds to the unspoken question that John B can’t seem to put into words. “I was in pain last time,” JJ explains, still referring to that moment in the bathroom, “So I couldn’t do anything.”

John B hadn’t expected JJ to  _ do  _ anything, but his mouth doesn’t seem to want to connect to his brain to actually tell JJ that. The first thing that finally becomes clear to him, through the fog of the alcohol and the utter strangeness of what has transpired over the last few minutes, is what exactly JJ means by  _ doing something.  _ And even though John B has thought about  _ doing something _ with JJ more times than he’d like to admit, this doesn’t feel like that.

“John B, come on,” JJ says, moving closer, “I said it’s fine.” And then, JJ bridges the last few inches between them and he’s kissing John B. Momentarily weak, John B can’t help but to kiss back, can’t help but to steal this moment that he thought he’d  _ never _ get. And still, JJ feels oddly far away.

But then the gears in his mind finally start turning properly, at long last beginning to put together everything JJ has just said and seeing the meaning behind it.  _ This is what you wanted, you can touch me, do whatever you want, I said it’s fine.  _ All this time, JJ thought John B put his hands on him because he wanted sex from JJ. Purely physical, detached, emotionless sex. He thought John B just wanted to get off, and that he’d wanted to…  _ use _ JJ for that, because he happened to be nearly naked in John B’s bathroom. John B also comes to the realization that JJ probably still thinks that he is somehow indebted to John B for the last two weeks and that  _ this  _ is his way to pay that debt. This is… a service. Physical, detached, emotionless.

John B feels disgusted. Disgusted that any of his actions have made JJ feel like he had to offer up his body to John B as soon as he felt better. The kiss only lasts a few seconds before John B’s mind and body connect, and he uses the hand that is still in the same spot on JJ’s chest to push him away as gently as he can.

It’s JJ’s turn to look confused. He tries to step closer in order to resume the kiss, but John B holds him back. “Stop, JJ,” he says, taking his hands off JJ’s body and stepping back.

JJ frowns and seems almost… hurt. “Don’t you want this? Come on,” he says, attempting to step closer again.

John B holds up his hand and says “No.” The real answer to that question is so much more complicated. It begins with a  _ No, not like this _ , but before John B can find any of the words to make this better, JJ has grabbed his shirt and is heading for the door. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he says.

“JJ,” John B starts, but he doesn’t get a chance, the door of the guest bedroom shutting behind JJ, leaving John B by himself, mind reeling.

John B sits down on the bed, still perfectly made, hard. “Fuck,” he says to the empty room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They kissed so you can't be mad at me

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on Tumblr if you like! https://closertome.tumblr.com/


End file.
